The City in Pieces
by IDontWantToGon2TheFruitCellar
Summary: Sequel to Two Heads About Everything. Chance Bremly leads a new purpose in life under the tutelage of Bane; Gotham faces another wave of Joker, darker and more sinister than before, as Ace feeds her infamous name as a progressed, more dangerous, blood-thirsty butcher on Joker's right hand. Chance x Bane. Joker x Ace. (Takes place in The Dark Knight). Sequel: City in Pieces II.
1. Back on Track

Author's Note:_ I watched the third volume of the Batman Trilogy and instantly fell in love with the hard-ass genius, Bane. Although he frightened me at first with his mask (which, if anyone's ever played Fable 3, horrendously looks like the Crawler) and at some points I thought he crossed boundaries that only the Joker could ever overstep, I was touched by the truth about him at his concluding end. Those who haven't seen it, I so hope you did. :D _

_Welcome to the sequel of Two Heads About Everything. This story is devoted to the tactical mind of Chance, and we'll see what the future has in store for her as she tries to climb to the top. I only own Chance and Ace, not to be confused with the little girl who can use mind manipulation. Enjoy, as always._

The City in Pieces

Chapter One: Back on Track

Chance didn't try to reason with Ace, to make her fully understand why she wanted to leave. The overwhelming image of trying to turn on her would be horrendously painful, Chance knew, if they stayed friends. She thought factually, mainly based her logic on the past, and automatically knew that when it came time to face Ace once more, she could not be emotionally attached. And as far as relationships went, Chance couldn't fall for anyone who wanted Gotham for their own; and all the men she worked with, or perhaps worked for, had always wanted the city for themselves.

As Chance embellished her mind on her last retreat from her friend, she walked along the narrow path of the side walk, her face a ray of distraught and defiance. Chance's hair fell over her shoulders in a ray of dismal sunshine, dirtied by the grounds of the narrows from when she freed Ace. Her clothes, a simple plaid shirt and jeans, were ragged and fraying from the hem, slowly decaying. Chance's appearance made her look a few years older, though she didn't feel that way. She was starting to loathe how much time she wasted, trying to get to the top. Even as a criminal, trying to reach the corporate ladder was not so simple as she had thought it would be.

Once more, Chance felt disappointed. Three years working with Ace; two years with Maroni; another year with Scarecrow; and another three with Two-Face...Gone. Wasted like how students wasted paper. No. Maybe it was disappointment after all, Chance had started to believe. No, this was something different. She felt more deceived. Especially by Two-Face. His two-timing way of finding love from her and Grace...Chance unfolded her arms from across her chest, balling her fists.

How could she trust anyone anymore?

Not mob bosses...not even her own class of criminal.

Chance turned a corner. She hurried her footsteps, her blood started to boil out of becoming irritation. Mellowing in her mind, a temper formed from ash, and it was all she could to stop herself from punched a lamp post. To relieve her anger, Chance turned to a local tavern, hoping that drinking spirits, it would settle her deceptive one.

Chance sighed. She attracted a lot of stares from the locals. Most, if not all, of them were C class criminals: thugs and petty thieves. Chance didn't even look their way, knowing that if any of them through a punch, she wouldn't say no to a bar fight. The bartender recognized her, but he couldn't care less if she sat down or took a booth. Chance threw one leg over a bar stool, then settled her arms on the counter, inclining her fingers together and began to twiddle her thumbs.

The bar keep stood in front of her expectantly.

"What'll it be, lady?" he said casually.

She observed him. A stout, portly man with a mustache and a goatee, side burns, messy hair, and a towel thrown over his right shoulder. He had his hands on the counter, fingers spread apart. She watched him.

"You're not really laid back, are you?" she said softly, still watching his hands. When he didn't respond, she met his hazel eyes.

"And you're not really 21," said the bartender, a border on impatience.

"I can see that you do this often, even on days that you don't feel like going to work. Don't you have your own hours?"

"Where the hell do you get off on—?"

Chance smiled and raised a hand up to him,

"I am only remaining observant, Bar Keep. After all, I am a patron. Not as sloppy and testicular as your regulars," she said, inclining her head at the locals, "but a patron, nevertheless. I watch them. They watch me. I watch you, and you watch me back. If I were so precarious, I wouldn't have realized that many of them recognize me as the calculating bitch who stole jewels from several of these patrons' pawn shop vaults."

The bartender stared at her.

"What the fuck is your point? Are you going to order something or waste more of my time?"

Chance smiled.

"The fucking point," she said, "is that I know how you are and how you feel just by observing your body language, and not to mention listening to your impatient tone, which no lady appreciates. And, yes, I would like an apple martini."

"Why do chicks have to talk so much?" said the bar keep.

"Let me guess, you don't have a lot of talkers."

"Do you see any of 'em talking, lady?" inquired the bartender. Chance looked back to the crowd. They were watching the football team, Gotham Rogues, on the television, whooping and cheering. Chance licked her lips and returned to the bartender.

"Where's your buddy, anyway? That wacko you hung around with?"

"What makes you think I'm alone?" said Chance sweetly.

The bartender's eyes held her gaze. He gulped with difficulty, then tried to peer around the room unnoticed, searching for a woman who truly wasn't there. Chance smiled gently.

"She's not here." Chance said gingerly, taking her fresh drink by the neck and tossing it gracefully in her mouth. She caught the little umbrella in the glass between her teeth. Taking it out with two fingers, she tossed it serenely into the trash behind the bartender.

"Where is she then?" asked the relieved bartender, slightly intrigued.

"Gone." Chance answered.

"Like _gone?_" He mimicked the slice of the neck pose with his finger.

"I don't know." Chance said. "I imagine she's following Joker with her tongue hanging out."

"I thought they were in Arkham."

Chance smirked.

"You don't read the newspaper, do you?"

"Not really."

"I bailed them out." Chance explained. "Right after I was snitched on by a two-faced bastard who set me up."

The bartender observed her with a raised eyebrow.

"You know, for a criminal, you're not that bad lookin'."

"Most of the women aren't." Chance said. "But I don't depend on looks to get me out of trouble."

Chance started to stand.

"Wait, you're leaving?"

Chance smiled. "Yes. I'm afraid I've got work to do."

As she started to leave, she tossed a few bills on the counter for the drink. She also passed a few glances to the crowd of men to notice some of them were rising from their seats to pursue her.

Chance took to the sidewalk. She walked with a steady stride, her heels hitting the stone lazily. Her eyes were peeled forward, but her hears listened behind her. The gaggle of men were not too far away. She waited for the opportune moment to strike. She stopped suddenly by a dark alley then slipped inside, waiting, perched behind a few garbage cans in the dark. There were four men who caught up to where she was in the light. Chance purposely hit the trash can from where she hid. With a smirk on her face, she listened to the men approach cautiously.

"She knows we're onto her."

"Well, mate, you're talking about gangin' on this girl."

"We shouldn't go in there, she's probably hiding."

"Come on, idiots, she's not wearing knives or anything. We'll get her and run before she gets up."

Chance rose to her feet to meet one of them eye to eye.

"Are you going to give me a Christmas caroling?" she said sweetly. They gasped.

Chance took the trash can lids and used them to hit the men in the torso; she kicked one in the face; he fell to the ground. One of them caught her in the head with a tight fist. Chance fell to the ground; she flew a leg toward his shin. Two men down. The two left charged at her, one at each arm and pinned her to the wall. Chance struggled. She leaned forward, then bit a man on his nose, which started to gush blood. Chance held the remainder man by his clothes and spat in his face the other man's blood. He gasped.

"You're pissing me off." Chance hissed. He nodded fiercely.

"Sorry...Sorry..."

"You will be." Chance growled. She took him by the collar and threw him roughly to the ground.

"What are you—?"

"Exactly what were your friends planning to do to me, hm?" asked Chance, pointing to the struggling companions. "Trying to get your ya-ya's out? Thought that I couldn't fight?"

"You're a stupid bitch who let a wacko do your job!" the man cried out.

Chance smiled dangerously. She lowered herself to his level. Chance withdrew from her pocket two sharp sewing needles.

"Stupid, am I?" she whispered. She took one of the needles, raised her hand, and jammed it into one of the man's splayed hands on the ground. He screamed. It ran through into the ground. The blood spewed from his palm. It sprayed into Chance's face, painting her features with a splash of crimson. Her blue eyes glowered at him.

"Stupid? I'm stupid?" Chance asked. "Perhaps if you take that back, I won't use my strength against you."

"Dumb bitch."

"Synonyms...How droll." Chance cooed. "But wrong answer."

She sat on hips, took his hand and pinned it to the ground. Chance took the second needle, and instead of raising and thrusting into his palm, she gave a sweet look and poised it in the middle of his palm. She lowered her mouth to his ear.

"Mm, I wonder how much this will hurt. Do you want to know?" she hissed. "Are you, by any chance, a masochist?"

"Please. Please..." the man whimpered, moving beneath her.

"Are you begging me to stop? Or asking me to do this?"

"I...I...don't..."

"I would think you're saying no to me, but since I'm so _stupid,_ I can't ever tell." Chance hissed. She took the needle and lightly pushed into his flesh cushion. "Just scream if it hurts you."

"Please, lady, no!" he begged.

"If I begged you, would you let me go?" said Chance coldly. She smirked when he stared at her. "Your silence tells me everything. Be a good little boy, hm? Play with me."

She lowered her lips to his quivering mouth.

"Open."

He shook his head.

"_Open_," she drawled. Chance lowered her leg to knee him just above his groin. "Open your mouth," she warned when he grunted, "or I aim lower. And I won't miss. I've dealt with enough assholes like you to know where it hurts the most. Now." Chance whispered. "_Open."_

His quivering lips parted.

"How about a kiss, my little _mannlein?" _

As Chance pushed the needle slowly into his hand, she slipped her tongue into his mouth; he screamed in full on-set agony, but it was horribly muffled. She smirked as she pushed it into the ground.

She was pulled off his body by the three other men. Chance started laughing.

"Please."

She kicked the three men in between their legs and they went down easily. Chance sighed.

"Well, this was fun. But I'm bored. Ta-ta, boys."

She left them groaning.

On her hour walk through the night, Chance looked to the sewers. Her first opponent. Killer Croc.

That's who she was going to aim for tonight. He lived down there, she knew where he was... Chance was on track now.


	2. Stranger in the Sewers

The City in Pieces

Chapter Two: A Stranger in the Sewers

Chance was shacked up in an apartment. From the jewels and coins she had robbed from pawn shops, she had cashed in her savings to buy guns and knives. Chance made up a suit that made it easy for her to get around, a black top and slacks, and quiet ballet flats. She cut several slices in her top to let her body breath, also to make nifty clip-ons. Chance circled her belt with small pocket knives and one pistol in her pockets. Chance lifted pulled her hair up in a tight bun and threw on a matching mesh hood over her face. Only what was above her nose could be seen. Her bright blue eyes shined from the black background.

Chance shuttered out of the window, landing neatly on her feet. She walked swiftly to the manhole in the middle of the street. Bent down on her knees, she removed the metal plate. Chance slipped onto the ladder then replaced the manhole as it was. Chance shimmied down the slick ladder with quiet grace. She sniffed the air.

"Something isn't right..." Chance muttered to herself.

It was a smell that wasn't just the disgusting trace of feces. Something industrious.

"Killer!" she called out cautiously. "Killer!"

Chance stood back against a wall, staying against the stone. The water rushed rapidly in the middle of the room, the dank sewer bilge could be seen floating on the surface. She wrinkled her nose at the sight.

"Killer!" she called out. "Killer Croc! Are you here?"

Chance walked down the line, watching ahead with peeled eyes. She heard a grumbling noise.

"Who is waiting for me?" she hissed in the oncoming darkness.

Chance crawled. She couldn't see much of anything. She stopped when she came to a wall. This wasn't the end of the sewers. She had many miles to go. It was a barricade. She was going to enter someone's lair. Chance bit the inside of her cheek. Killer's lair was there.

"I'm coming through!" she called out. "I'm coming for you!"

She took out powder from a canteen and sprinkled it in front of her. Chance stood back, lit a match, then tossed it in front of her. She fell to the ground and covered her hood. The light ignited the gun power and the stone wall exploded. The wall came apart thunderously with a loud

_BOOM!_

Chance staggered to her feet and threw herself through the hole. What she came in contact with, she hadn't planned on. Chance stared at the massive pit before her. She looked up to see a large light above her. It was like she was in a well, but as she gazed at the entirety, her stomach dropped.

There were men all around. Below her, it was miles below. Water rushed from beneath surfaces that hadn't been drilled through yet. There were ladders on every level. It was an underground lair, but Chance couldn't see Croc anywhere. She bit her tongue.

"Hey!" called one of the men in black. "HEY!"

Chance turned on her heel and rushed back the way she came, but not before plummeting into a large body mass; Chance fell on her back. Chance gasped at the mass of a man before him. Her eyes widened in fear. Her hands went up to shield her face from him.

"What," he asked in an echoing, deep voice from behind a contraption wrapped around his face, "are you doing here?"

She stared at him, her heart started racing rapidly. For once, she was speechless.

One look at his physique and her jaw dropped. The man in front of her was enormous. The ridiculously big traps, the bowling ball shoulders, the arms that look like they could punch through steel, and the chest carved from stone was in front of her. He wore dark pants and large shoes.

His mask covered his nose and mouth in a metal appearance of two rows of teeth. From between the rows of the metal teeth, there was breathable speaker which made this large man's voice echo and sound monstrous.

Somehow, she was frozen.

"You blew a hole in my home," the man said darkly.

"I...I..." Chance hesitated. "I...thought..."

He reached for her clothes by her neck. Chance gasped, taking his hand but failed to pry it from her suit. He lifted her off the sewer floor and gazed at her with his hazel eyes. Chance could only tell his emotion by the angry glare in his face. She put both of her hands around his fingers.

"Let...me...go..." she said boldly, regaining her voice back.

"Feeling brave?"

"Off me." Chance said swiftly.

"You're telling me what to do?"

"Let me go." Chance told him. "Let me go!" she said, her voice rising.

"Hah."

He released her and she fell to the floor. Chance rose to her feet quickly and stepped away from him.

"Who are you?" she uttered breathlessly.

"Ah, we're being courteous?" he said in an accent.

He stepped forward.

"Were you expecting someone else?"

"Where's Killer Croc?"

"In the hospital," said Bane, indicating upstairs with a hand casually. "I broke every one of his bones. Just as I am about to break yours, Sweetheart."

"No doubt, you can," said Chance gently as he approached her.

"You're trying to talk yourself out, and when I'm distracted by your useless banter, you'll try to slip pass me and climb up that ladder. And to answer your question, I'm Bane."

"You're using your banter to distract me as well." Chance said, sizing him up.

He stood about half a foot taller than she. Chance felt slightly outmatched.

She felt the wall behind her. Bane stood in front of her.

"You must be that clever girl, that Chance." Bane drawled her name.

His face was in front of hers. She widened her eyes out of some fear.

"You're not going to escape out of here with your wit."

"Then I guess I can try to fight you." Chance breathed.

"Try, yes." Bane said.

He hit her hard in the gut. Chance groaned and fell to the floor, holding her stomach. A punch? It was more like being hit by a file cabinet. She gasped for air. He took her by her hood and forced her cowl down; he pulled the ponytail out of her head and her blossom of blonde hair fell down her face in a silky curtain.

"You're a rookie compared to me."

"No doubt..." Chance gasped. "But...I'm fast."

Chance slid down the wall as Bane's hand aimed for her face. She slid through his legs and ended up behind him. Chance took the moment to storm down the path to the ladder. But before she reached for that slippery staircase, Bane's large hand took hers in a vice grip.

"NO!" Chance cried out—

He literally threw her in the opposite direction. She landed horizontally on the wall and collapsed to the floor. Blood was seeping from her suit. Chance's stomach clenched painfully. She rolled onto her back, her chest seizing with ultimate pain.

"Ugh..." was her word.

From above her, Chance saw Bane's masked face.

"You've got some nerve, I figured you'd have a fight against me. But who am I to talk? I'm a killer of men."

Chance swiped at him furiously.

He punched her in the face. Chance blacked out.


	3. Recruitment

The City in Pieces

Chapter Three: Recruitment

Chance's searing headache was like a migraine on steroids. In fact the moment she awoke, she screamed out of agony. Her eyes pinched shut as the surging feeling of a loud throb pounded away in the back of her head. As she raised her hands to apply pressure to her temples, her skin felt like it was ripping apart. She opened her eyes to see, painfully, that her arms were bandaged, but the bruising was all over her body. Chance realized that she was half-naked, stripped to her bra and underwear, though she only felt it underneath a very light blanket over her body. Chance glowered around the room to see no one, but heard footsteps booming through the echoing sewer. Chance tried to move her legs, but when she did, she fell out of bed, along with her skinny blanket. Hitting the bare floor, she moaned in suffering pain; it felt like her entire body had shattered. Chance reached up to a side table, trying to pull herself up. The skin-ripping started to happen again and she cried out.

"You won't be going anywhere."

Chance turned on her back painfully, knowing very well at whom she was going to look. The voice echoed and was thunderous. Her eyes fluttered, frightened, as he started to approach her.

"Get back." Chance said angrily, though it was put out the moment she saw him close up. With her down on the ground, and him standing over her, he could just sit on her and she would suffocate. Chance, though, tried to move away. She reached for the mattress to haul herself up onto it.

"Why are you making this difficult. I haven't touched you."

"You bruised my body...You..." she pulled the mattress toward her, but her legs wouldn't move. "You...You broke my legs. Get away from me."

"I'm also the one who put you there."

"What do you want from me?" she hissed, turning her eyes away from him. "Sex?"

Bane's voice echoed a chuckle. It sent chills up Chance's spine.

"If I did, don't you think I would have had that from you already?"

"For what I don't know, you already could have." Chance retorted irritably.

"And if I did, you wouldn't be able to feel it; you're numb from the waist down, aren't you?"

Chance ignored him. She clung to the mattress and with her arms lifted her limb dead-weight up onto the cushion. The comfort only seemed to make her ache even worse. Chance collapsed onto her back. The blanket was wrapped around her. Bane sighed.

"You are a terrible man to beat up a woman half your size," remarked Chance.

"But I've the read the papers. You're no ordinary female. You've kicked out a few armies of policemen."

"With a partner who was more wily than me. Besides," said Chance, "that doesn't give you the right to pulverize me."

"I didn't kill you. You ought to be grateful about that."

"You'll do it anyway." Chance uttered coldly.

"Until a few hours ago, you didn't know who I was. How can you be so sure that I'd kill you?"

"Now you're toiling with me because you're the better man, is that it?" Chance said hotly.

"If you don't stop popping off to me, girl, I _will_ kill you." Bane said, agitated. He approached her.

Chance saw that he had on clothes this time. A coat and some kind of bullet-proof structiure strapped to his body. She stared at him, wide-eyed, as he hovered over her. She held the blanket closely to her. His eyes squinted in a way one would when smiling.

"I could have taken a lot from you, but I didn't."

"Why not?"

"Because," he said, lowering her arms with one hand, "your fighting skills are abysmal, and although I 'pulverized' you, you can learn not to go through this again."

Chance scoffed.

"You intend to recruit me for your army, Bane?"

"My own League of Shadows, actually." Bane told her.

She pursed her lips.

"Then you already know what I'm going to say." Chance told him softly.

"And if I decide to kill you right now?" Bane uttered in a lower voice, sliding his fingers along Chance's jawline. She lowered her eyes to glance at nothing in particular, but ceased slightly when his thumb caressed her jugular vein. Chance bit her lip.

"You know what I want." Chance told him gently. "I want Gotham. Over Joker and anyone else. I guess, you're just another target."

"You're a terrible fighter. I'd have you over my knee, broken, in a minute." Bane said confidently. Chance, from the bed, sighed, and simply smiled. Bane merely waited for her response, though his brown eyes continued to bore into her blue ones.

Chance couldn't take on this killing machine by herself, especially with her so weak as of now. She had only one choice to keep her alive. Chance raised her right hand and wrapped her fingers around his wrist.

"Train me." Chance said. "But on one condition."

Bane made an echoing chuckle, but said, "And what is that?"

"Wait until I'm healed."

"Fair enough for me." Bane told her; he released her neck.

He sat down on the bed beside her. His weight shifted the mattress so much that she lost balance and fell onto her back. She bit the inside of her cheek.

"You are a skilled fighter, Chance," said Bane from in front of her. She didn't see his expression as he said it. She frowned and tried to sit up to meet his gaze, but he held a hand out in front of her to make her remain where she was. She narrowed her eyes at him. Then he turned to her.

"I know very well about your problem. Always in charge. Well," he said, rising to his feet, "don't think that because you are a woman that I won't hesitate to kill you. I didn't squirm when I tortured a female politician, nor will I tolerate being yelled at by a senator who hires me to assassinate a district attorney." He indicated her legs as he said quietly, "And although society might think it's low for a man to destroy a woman who's unable to fight back, I won't hesitate to kill you if you disobey me."

"I give you permission to kill me if you do." Chance breathed.

He pushed one of her broken legs at the shin; Chance cried out in pain.

"You have no permission over me."

Chance turned on her stomach to bite the sheets beneath her in an attempt to cover most of her agony.

"Eventually, you'll learn." Bane sighed through his mask. He walked to the door. "If you need anything, just scream."

Chance growled into her mattress angrily.


	4. Real Pain

The City in Pieces

Chapter Four: Real Pain

Chance's pain never went away unless she fell into a hard sleep, a concept she learned in two days. She sat in her cell, for the doors was wood and the peep window were bars. A simple movement made her bite her lip in pain, but nothing hurt worse than her mental capability to think that Bane was only toiling with her. Frustrated that she was being ruled over and soon to be trained by the very man, or perhaps a beast, that broke her legs, Chance was rolling in aggravation and self-humiliation. Merely stuck on a mattress that was slowly becoming her blood bed, Chance felt her stomach roll with anger. She sat against the wall, still half-naked. She wrapped her blanket arouund her chest, holding it as tightly as she could against her chest to hide from prying eyes.

Chance glared at the door for hours, waiting for someone to come inside to take advantage of her situation. Perhaps it was about a day or two that she was aching for food that made her want to see someone enter. But she didn't cry out for nourishment. She half-hoped to starve. However, that hope vanished when the door clicked, and it was pushed open; it wasn't Bane. It was a man who looked like he hadn't seen daylight for many months. His face was pale. And he looked a bit ragged.

"Who are you?" Chance demanded at once when his face was visible.

He merely gazed at her.

"_Speak."_ Chance snapped at him.

His eyes looked at her, then dropped to her body. Chance narrowed her eyes at him.

"I told you to speak." Chance repeated slowly.

The man entered. His hands became visible; in them, he held a bag.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" said Chance dangerously, holding the blanket tighter in her hands.

"Food. For you. From Bane," the man finally answered, though his eyes continued to stare at her body.

"Out." Chance hissed quietly.

"Oh, no. I was told to give you this directly."

"Put it down, and I'll get it myself." Chance said cautiously.

"No, I was told to hand it to you," said the man, slightly persistent. He took two steps toward her.

"Then do what I'm tell you to do." Chance warned. "Put it down, and I'll get it. Myself."

"He'll know if I didn't hand it to you."

"He'll know if you did..."

"He's quite menacing, isn't he? He killed all my friends because they tried to protect me. But you exploded his lair, and he spares you," the man said in a shaking voice. He was at the foot of her bed.

"I can't fathom why he wants me alive. I'll end up like your friends anyway." Chance said quietly. "Put the bag on my bed and walk out the door."

"You're afraid of him because he broke your legs. We all heard, we all know. But I'm not afraid of you."

The man pulled an apple out of the bag with a dirty hand. He set the bag on the mattress. To Chance's dismay, he started to crawl on the bed. One knee. Then the other. He held the apple as he crawled toward her. Chance frowned and gritted her teeth behind her pursed lips. The man was at her feet.

"Here's your food," said the man.

"Get out." Chance whispered.

He side-stepped her legs to sit right beside her. His eyes fell from hers to fall on her lips, then to her tightly concealed chest.

"Here."

The man held the apple in front of Chance's lips.

"Eat."

"Get away...from me..." Chance said coldly, though her voice shook with anger and fear.

The man's eyes were green. He was so close to her. His other hand reached to her chin.

"Just eat the apple."

She jerked her bruised chin from his weak fingers and said angrily,

"I said _get away from me, you dirty man!"_

With a bruised arm, Chance raised her hand and hit him in the cheek. The man fell back against the wall and his head hit it hard. He recovered from her punch and glowered at her. He took the apple and retook her chin in his filthy fingers. Chance raised her hands to pry him away, and her blanket fell to her waist, exposing her pretty chest under a black bra.

The man withdrew his hands from her chin to take her waist.

"OFF ME!" Chance roared furiously.

"I'll have you first before Bane does!" said the man into her ears.

Chance elbowed him in the face.

"I'd much prefer him than to you!" she said angrily.

The man held his broken nose. He yelled out in frustration, then took his fist and jammed it hard into Chance's broken legs. Chance opened her mouth and screamed out in searing pain. The man covered her mouth with his and kissed her forcibly.

Then suddenly he was lifted up into air, legs and all, and Bane stood at the foot of her bed, holding the man up to his masked face. Bane merely looked at the man and the attempted rapist turned to a quivering mess before him.

"I told you to give her the bag," said Bane in his daunting, deep voice, "and leave."

"Sh-Sh-She led me on...S-S-S-Sir...I...I..."

Bane's empty hand took the back of his head and turned the man's eyes to Chance.

"Does she look like she wanted anything from you?" said Bane dangerously.

"No...No..."

"Don't you think a criminal mind like that would want someone who could at least match her in appearance as well as brain?" Bane said. To the man's silence, Bane said in annoyed tone, "If you don't answer me, I'll squish your face."

"She would...She would..." the man started to cry.

"Good." Bane muttered. "Now apologize."

"I...I..."

"Now, or I'll break you in two."

"I'm sorry!" the man cried out in a blubber.

Chance's eyes were wide as she watched the scene in front of her.

"Again, I don't think that was loud enough. Do it, or I'll smash your face into the wall."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'M SORRY! I'M _SORRY!"_

Chance stared at the man, whose eyes were wide with worry and fear. He kicked in Bane's vice grip. Bane took the man by his throat and tossed him out of the room. His screams echoed as he fell through the hole in the ground. His landing was clear as daylight when his shrieks suddenly stopped. Chance stared at Bane who turned to her.

"Now." He cracked his knuckles. "As for your insolence."

"Insolence?" said Chance in an accidental squeaky voice. She took the blanket up again to tighten her fingers around the cloth in anticipation. "I didn't do anything..."

"Really?" said Bane. "You didn't take the bag." He took up the knapsack and held it up for her to see. Chance bit her lips.

"He frightened me." Chance admitted out of the aching suspense.

Bane nodded.

"Fear is just an illusion." Bane said, tossing the bag beside Chance's legs. "Now, pain. Pain is real."

Bane stepped toward her; Chance backed up into the wall behind her.

"I know what pain is, you don't have to show me. I saw it. I felt it." Chance said quickly.

"For three days. But not inconsistently. Like me."

"Don't pick the sympathy vote with me," said Chance. "You can't possibly think I'd have that after what you've done to me."

Bane chuckled.

"I don't sympathy, it's nothing more than words. Honestly, nobody cared who I was until I put on the mask. Like you."

A unseen smile met his eyes. Chance stared at him.

"Then you know that I don't trust too easily.

"You have no choice to put your trust in anybody else except the person who stopped an attempted rape."

Chance bit her lip.

"In future events, you might want to scream before anyone actually touches you."

He set a hand on her leg lightly. Chance closed her eyes to anticipate another thomping, expecting him to hit her again. Instead, she felt an injection needle pierce her skin. It hurt like eveything else, except after what seemed like five minutes, a cold sensation went through her body, and nothing hurt. She opened her eyes to glance at Bane, who held up the used needle; inside the tube was her blood.

"You're learning to fear me. When we start training, _I_ will be your test."


	5. Rock Bottom

The City in Pieces

Chapter Five: Rock Bottom

The medication that Bane had injected into her blood stream relaxed her muscles. It calmed Chance's searing pains. They seemed to have vanished, and a pleasurable sensation replaced the rolling nausea in her stomach and the pulsing throb in the back of her head. Chance sat against the wall, absent-mindedly grazing her fingers along a scabbing burn along her right forearm. It had torn again when she moved, and although she felt no pain, she could feel hard pressure. Chance glanced at her burn. Her skin was a pale, nasty shine, like the underbelly of a hermit crab. Light liquid was slowly filling the hole in her arm. She sighed and closed her eyes.

A prisoner in the cell. Chance felt like that. But on the other hand, she was given some kind of special treatment. Then again, Chance _did_ agree to be trained by him. It'd be useless to have her die; but pain was real and if he wanted her to know this, why did he numb her limbs. Chance's pain was instantly relieved, but she didn't know how long it would last.

Feeling a tad bit strong, Chance set her arm aside and removed the light cot blanket from her body. Her eyes were sore for the sight she saw. Her legs were broken, she knew, but they looked terrible on the outside. Bruising along her kneecaps, a putrid yellow and dotted purple covered her skin. Chance set a hand on her kneecap gingerly, then pressed it. Out came a gasp of pain from her mouth, and to angrily shut it all out, Chance raised her right, bruised hand and hit the stone wall beside her. Immediately, she regretted it, coiling on her bed with her bleeding knuckled in her stomach, curling in renewed agony.

Footsteps entered the cell, but Chance already knew who it was by the sound of his breathing. She uttered a painful squeal from the blanket, her unharmed knuckles turning white as she put pressure on her bruised and bleeding hand. She glanced up from watering eyes. Bane watched her from the door. He had rope in his hand. This time, he wore a very good-looking coat over his massive shoulders. The same bulletproof vest covered his chest, and cargo camoflauge jeans. He wore boots.

"What," he said in a slightly annoyed voice, "are you doing?"

She didn't respond. Bane sighed. He entered the room and tossed the rope onto a nearby chair.

"Your recovery," he continued, "is going to be a long one unless you stop lacerating yourself."

Chance breathed heavily.

"Don't talk to me like I'm some child in that condescending voice," she managed in a breathless hurry.

Bane cocked his head to one side.

"Like a child, hm?"

He rose to his feet quickly and took Chance's bleeding hand. Chance let out an agonized moan as he pressed his strong hand against her bruised knuckles. The blood seeped from her skin and glided down his fingers. He looked calm and collected, but the pressure on her appendage was more than she could bear. Instantly, it made her weak all over, like when someone jams their thumb in that unspeakably painful manner, and any game like tennis is forfeit. Chance gasped. She fell off the bed, unable to gather strength in her other hand to grab the table. Her legs clamored against Bane's chair legs ungracefully; along came the blanket the fell over her head. Bane still held onto her hand, unmoved.

"Let...Let..." Chance breathed. Her fingers quivered involuntarily in his.

"I said that you would learn to speak to me respectfully. I merely spoke a statement, and you snapped at me. Do you feel in charge when you forcibly lash out at everyone?" He held up her hand and threw the blanket off her face. "Look at you."

"It's your fault that I can't—recover..." Chance said angrily, despite her pain. "You...made me like this!"

"You are hemorrhaging," Bane told her. He threw her hand at her and she recoiled in tear-jerking agony. "If you don't stop the bleeding, you'll die anyway. I've been entirely too lenient, apparently, which I already decided it. I had an inclination that you'd be tougher than this." Bane rose to his feet and retrieved the rope.

"Lenient?" hissed Chance, cradling her shaking hand. Her voice rose. "_Lenient?_"

"As you may recall, it wasn't me who bashed your hand into that wall."

He hauled the rope through a loop in the ceiling.

"What are you doing?" asked Chance quietly as he started to tie the rope in a loop, similair to a hangman's noose. Her eyes widened fearfully.

"Teaching you a lesson."

"You're a fucking monster, you know that?"

"I'm not a monster." Bane said calmly. He glanced at Chance. "A leader who wants respect is what I am. There are certain values I hold for my army; you lack it."

Bane approached her.

"Move."

"I...I can barely crawl..." Chance squealed.

Bane sighed through his mask. He reached down to take her arm.

"Okay, okay!" Chance cried out.

Bane released her automatically.

"Don't make me tell you twice."

Chance was only two feet away from the hanging rope, but it looked such a long way to crawl there with a busted hand and broken legs. She held back some tears as she laid on her stomach. Her legs were useless, and once more, the medicine that Bane had given her had been wasted on her idling. Chance glanced at her bleeding knuckles. She reached out for the earth beneath her. The moment that her fingers bent just a few centimeters, pain surged through her wrist. Her jaw popped out of her choke back of a scream. She could feel Bane's eyes piercing her skull. Chance reached out for the earth again with her good hand, and like that she moved herself. Dragging her naked legs along the jagged rocks below, Chance believed that she was slowly dying. She looked up to see that she had finally made it under the rope. Slightly relieved, she glanced over her shoulder at Bane, who had taken a seat on her bed.

With a gesture of his hand, he told her silently to grab it. She raised her good hand to grasp it weakly, but just as tried to hoist herself onto her knees, they popped out of place, and a mirthless shriek left her lips as she fell to back to the ground. Her shriek turned to fits of breathless groans; her back failed her, aching as well. Bane hovered over her with a disappointed look on his face.

"You're not trying hard enough."

Chance tried to reply back, but her attempts were fruitless. Instead, all she could do was glare at him from the ground. He bent down beside her. Chance's cheeks reddened as his eyes gazed over her body, though her sudden hot face turned cold as he set one of large hands on her blue kneecaps. She winced, jerked madly beneath his touch. Out of instinct, she reached up and smacked his neck, the only thing she could reach that was closest to his face. He merely looked at her.

"Please..." she cried. Tears fell down from the corners of her eyes and into her knappy, blonde hair. "Please..."

"You are begging me. Do you know this?"

She nodded.

"I know...I know...and I...I. Don't. Care..."

"Then what is it that you want me to do, Chance?"

She raised her hand to point at the rope.

"Kill me. If this is what I have to do..." she shook her head. "I don't care...Just kill me...Please..."

Bane took down the rope.

"I told you to kill me. What are you doing?" said Chance as he rose to his feet.

"Welcome to rock bottom." Bane told her. He lifted her into his arms and set her down on her mattress. Again, he withdrew the same syringe, and with it, he sent that same pleasurable sensation in her body, easing the pain. Now that she could listen to him without a death wish, Bane sat down on the bed beside her.

"A person can't win a battle if he fears death. A rich kid loses his parents; a sad tragedy, no doubt, but a rich fellow still has the butler, the inheritance, and the large house on the top of a beautiful hill. But if a man has no family, has been torn from his house, no clothes, even his dignity, what is there to have than the freedom of death?"

Chance stared at him.

"That," said Bane, "is what I need in my soldiers. And so far, you haven't had that lifestyle. _I,_" he said, indicating her wear and tear situation, "have given you that. According to medical journals, the intensity of your injuries require a month's recovery. I recommend not slamming your appendages into walls or crawling out of this cell until then; I know the kind of men that harbor in this pit."

"So I'm not a prisoner?"

Bane shook his head then chuckled.

"You were never my prisoner. You could have left any time you desired."

He strode to the door.

"Stay in your bed. A month later, we will start training."


	6. Healing Injuries

Author's Note: To my readers, thank you for all my reviews, new and old. I enjoy hearing from you all and I'm so happy that you're enjoying my story. Once more, the only thing I own in this sequel to Two Heads About Everything is Chance and probably some minor characters that I'll throw in here. Enjoy Chapter Six. :D

The City in Pieces

Chapter Six: Healing Injuries

Chance's knuckles were, by the far, the lesser evils of her many injuries sustained by Bane's point of rock bottom. She merely wished he had just _told _her that he wouldn't stop beating her until she figured out that not all treasures were silver and gold, but she should've guessed that a man like Bane wouldn't even speak through a lesson. Chance grimaced as she tried to flex her fingers smoothly, but only gasped at the sudden ripping along the rough edge of her raw skin started to tear its way through her seeping wound. She huffed irritably, suddenly frustrated with how weak she had become, scared and physically languid, compared to what she was only three days ago. Three days ago, she wouldn't have even flinched at Bane when she was working with Ace, but then again, Ace was always the physically-inclined fox. And the one, apparently, who had the most pain tolerance.

Chance grabbed her blanket and ripped it along the hem, leaving bits of thread poking out of the remainder of the cloth. From the softest parts of her blanket, Chance wrapped it gingerly along her seeping hand, gritting her teeth to force back any whimper that would slip out involuntarily. Only after that, did she finally breathe in relief, feeling suddenly exhausted from just that amount of exertion.

Pain tolerance was not Chance's greatest strength, but it wasn't because she was weak, not like how Bane described to her. Chance was an evasive fighter. She could pull a punch, but her legs were her strongest leverage, which were merely useless now. At many a time, Chance, in the past, weeded her way out of a sticky situation by her charismatic attitude, a wit and a charming personality—that was if she was very relaxed. It was sort known, though, by now that Chance was not at all at home. Even though Bane, himself, had told her that she could have left at any time, she knew that if she had tried, he would have stopped her. What he really meant was that she could have _tried_ to leave, but the effort would be useless.

Chance scorned herself. Yes, she would have been stopped, but at least she'd been able to leave. But as she searched the room, she started to feel a little alone. Despite her being petrified of him, Chance started to miss Bane's company.

She saw the door open before she even heard the creak, and with half-fear, half-relief, Chance recognized Bane's mask easily, along with the rest of him. He apparently had been either bathing or fighting someone who really deserved it, for all he had were his cargo jeans. Chance's stomach rolled pleasurably at the sight of the water dripping down his carved chest to slide secretly down his muscled arms and simply drop from his fingers. A sudden ache burned in her lower belly.

After the feeling of a slow-motion pan from his eyes to his...a better word to use—immaculate—body, Bane entered the room. He sat down in the chair beside Chance.

"I see you tried to self-medicate." Bane told her. His tone was approving.

"It's not getting better." Chance said, offering her hand to him. He held his hand out to her, open-palmed; with some quiver in her fingers, she placed her hand along his.

_He knows medicine,_ Chance thought as he stared at the dirty cloth around her knuckles.

"How long have you had this on your hand?" he asked her.

"Maybe twenty minutes."

She glanced at his eyes.

"Your timing is off."

"I'm in a dungeon, Bane. If you want me to know the time, give me a watch."

"For a helpless woman locked in a _dungeon,_" said Bane in a calm voice, "you're a smart ass."

Chance licked her bottom lip.

"Sorry..."

"Don't apologize," dismissed Bane, observing her hand. "It's a sign of weakness."

"Or respect." Chance added inadvertently.

"You can't control yourself, can you?" sighed Bane.

"Force of habit...Sir..." Chance muttered.

"Sir? We are getting somewhere, then. Unwrap your hand."

Chance bit her tongue literally as she slid the cloth from her knuckles. The pressure she had used on it when she had wrapped it in the first place had made several pieces of string stick inside the pink, sensitive skin beneath her scabs. The force she used to pull the cloth from her hand and made the string pull what had healed beneath along with it. From the sudden strike of burning and stinging in her hand, Chance squealed. Bane took her hand. Along the bones of her knuckles, blood rushed from the soft tissue to fill the absences of her scabs.

While holding Chance's hand in his palm, Bane pulled bandages, cast moldings, scissors, gauze, and some kind of ointment from the pockets of his cargo jeans.

"What are you? Some kind of...surgeon?" asked Chance incredulously, gasped last minute when he repositioned her hand.

"Not exactly, but I have more knowledge than an average doctor, though they don't really help you in the Gotham General Hospital unless your pockets are overflowing with silver dollars." Bane said. He met her eyes. "I'm not a plunderer, nor am I some wretch who was found at the bottom of Lazarus Pit."

"You're not a lot of things, apparently." Chance said, disgruntled.

"I sound arrogant, I know. Only because I have that right to be, but eventually, you'll understand why." Bane said shamelessly.

"In the long run." Chance added to his sentence gently. His eyes left hers to focus on her hand. Her blood ran out of the pink boundary and dripped down her fingers. He didn't recoil or grimace as his hand started to pool with the crimson tide.

"You bleed easily." Bane commented.

"Not a good trait in a warrior, I assume." Chance said.

"Don't assume anything," he told her seriously. "But since you're quite intelligent, you already know why."

"Anyone in the English language knows that turn of phrase, Bane."

"You're thinking of the childish phrase: 'You make an 'ass' out of 'you' and 'me. I was referring to: 'It give you 'a' right to 'sue' 'me'."

"You're a smart ass." Chance remarked.

"Is that a case of turrets, or must you always try to win a proverbial battle?"

Chance frowned.

Bane took the guaze and dabbed at her knuckles, cleaning along her fingers and also around his where the pool of blood has started to drip off her own hand. Chance watched him.

"If it isn't so bold of me to ask, why is it that you mean to intimidate me?" Chance said curiously.

Bane looked at her.

"I'm guessing that not a lot of people stand up to you. Is that right?" Bane predicted correctly.

"Yes."

"Unlike your past cohorts, I am very unafraid of you, Chance Bremly. You're a dangerous woman; it's actually interesting how long you've been able to evade Arkham Asylum. It's not a compliment, nor am I insulting you. It's a simple fact. I've heard stories." Bane said. "However, I'd actually enjoy a bit of story telling."

"Now?"

Bane nodded.

"About what?"

"I hear on the street that you are climbing your way to become Gotham's most powerful, perhaps greedy, criminal. Reaching to the top to tower over those who have relinquished their pieces of land in Gotham and become that criminal mastermind that is, not feared, but respected by the criminal underworld."

"It's true."

"Tell me about Ace."

Chance stared at him. "Ace?"

"Ace."

Bane tossed the bloody gauze into the trash can beside him. He took the ointment from the side table and unscrewed the cap.

"This is Lidocaine. It's an antiseptic with pain relief. It will numb you long enough for me to wrap your hand."

Chance nodded.

Bane squeezed the gel along the raw edge of Chance's knuckles. Then he pushed the ointment onto her knuckles. Instinctively, Chance turned and clobbered her pillow as the ointment burned her skin. Amused, Bane set the bottle of Lidocaine on the table and took the bandage. The burning sensation vanished and, as Bane had told her, the numbing relief came. He wrapped the cotton around her entire hand.

"Ace," began Chance gently," is a friend from high school."

Bane glanced at her, intrigued at her cooperation. He rose to his feet, collecting the cast moldings. Chance watched him climb into her bed, sitting at her feet. He gestured for her to make room. Chance sat up against the wall. She knew what he was doing. He was going to pull those casts onto her broken legs. She hoped he would—Oh, thank God, he did.

Before he touched her broken limbs, Bane withdrew a syringe from his pants pocket and injected it into her calf muscle. The sudden numbing in her legs brought a smile to Chance's face. Bane sat down.

"We graduated and started shoplifting," said Chance.

"How long were you working with her before you told her to get lost?" inquired Bane.

"It was a mutual agreement. We intended to rob the Second Federal National Bank, but a traitor leaked our plans and there was an ambush set into motion. Ace acted on impulse, as she always did, and Batman had already arrived. We left empty-handed."

"She's reckless." Bane said.

"Very. Ace is a blood thirsty killer. I condone it," Chance said admiringly. Bane looked at her. "There's nothing wrong with carnage, just that it's in moderation. But we wanted different things, we were two heads about everything. She wanted freedom, I wanted power. She wanted to kill everyone, I just wanted to get what I needed and leave. So we left on good terms."

"Word has it that you become romantically involved with your partners," stated Bane as if this was a routine statement.

"I did." Chance said. "I was involved with Sal Maroni until he proposed a sex trade. I ended the partnership then. I worked with Scarecrow, but he broke a promise to me...He poisoned Rachel Dawes. Sent her to the infirmary, which I didn't ask to be done. So I left him. Then I found Two-Face, and we did well for three years, but I recently discovered that he had been leaking information to the police via his ex-wife, trying to get back together with her.

"Ace and Joker had been romantically involved when I met Harvey." Chance continued. "She and Joker had put Harley Quinn on the back burner since she was in Arkham. After we hit the Second National Bank and left with a fascinating result, we made a co-op: Joker, Harvey, Ace, and me."

"And then here you are."

"Yes."

Bane nodded. "Tell me, is Ace a hard fighter?"

"She can hold her own. She's very dangerous, very strong. And no conscience." Chance added, turning to Bane. "Once, we fought each other, though neither of us knew the other's identity. Ace is very adamant. And if ever I get to the point when I have to top Joker, she won't succumb easily."

"And neither will you." Bane said confidently. Then on a darker note, "I will make sure of it."

Chance bit the inside of her cheek.

Bane easily slipped the cast along Chance's left foot. As he pulled the cast, he ascended the bed, approaching Chance inch by inch. Chance's face reddened in a heated blush as his right hand fell to her waist, pulling the cast over her knee cap and up her thigh. Bane glanced at Chance to see her face red and beaded with sweat. She merely smiled at him. Bane repeated the action with her right leg. When he had cast her legs into molded splints, he pulled a shirt out a bag that was hanging on a hook along the wall.

"A few of my men located your apartment and took some clothes from your bedroom." Bane informed her. "They tell me that it was hard to do, for your home is rigged with traps for intruders. Expecting unwelcome company?" questioned Bane, handing Chance a plaid shirt and a robe.

"Any unexpected company is unwelcome." Chance said. "Never can be too careful about who will come into your home."

Bane made a pointed gaze at her and said, "No. No, you can't."

Chance pursed her lips and gave him an impish grin.

"Get those on." Bane instructed, pointing to the articles of clothing. "You may not be able to physically fight, but your injuries aren't in your mind. Here." He handed her crutches. "You'll walk with these."

"Where are we going?"

"You will see."


	7. Leaving the Room

Author's Note: Two chapters in one day, check that out :D Anyway, hoped you enjoyed last chapter; just trying to convey that although Bane's a bad villain to those who are actually 'good', he can be a good teacher...so to speak.

City in Pieces

Chapter Seven: Leaving the Room

All that Chance had seen was a glimpse of the actual 'pit'. When Chance took up the crutches, she swung forward to find that although her knee caps were broken, she found some strength to stand on the stronger of the two. She gripped the hilt of wooden stilts, her right hand knuckles whitened at her strong grip. Bane stood at the door to see if she could rise to her feet, just in case that if she _did_ fall, he could, _assumed_ Chance, help her to her feet to try again. Chance quivered at the sudden leave from her mattress, then glanced at it to see the blood curdling where her bloody hand rested when she rested. Bane opened the door and held it toward the wall with one hand, waiting for her to move. When she continued to shake on her clutches, Bane said,

"Have you ever been on these before, or is it hard for you to stand?"

He sounded a tad insincere. Chance shook her head.

"I haven't stood up in three days."

"Perhaps I'm trying you?" he said in that voice again.

"You're patronizing me." Chance said in a low tone.

"A bit." Bane gestured for her to attempt a few steps. She moved; like the last time, she stood on her stronger leg, and hobbled toward him. Bane watched her approach him. He stood, now that she could actually look at him, about a half a foot taller. She was happy that her neck wasn't broken. She had to look directly up, so close to him.

"Good?" asked Bane.

"I'm fine." Chance answered.

"Then ladies first."

Chance passed him out of the door. As she exited the room, her eyes grew wide, impressed, as she gazed around.

Bane called it a pit, but what she saw was an..._industry._ Underground. Chance's mouth fell open as she stared up at the ceiling to see that the hole was actually a huge, fucking opening to the outskirts of Gotham, though if one peered through it, it would just be one long way to go. The levels into sewer grates had railings, ladders, ropes, and there were people hanging from everywhere, drilling and hammering away. The sewer water rushed through spills and gutters, flew through a machine that was most likely meant to purify it to become drinking water. Chance leaned forward to watch the waterfall; it pooled below in a massive hole to start the process over again. Chance saw several cells like hers, except they were much tighter together and smaller.

Bane touched her shoulder.

"What is this...place...?" said Chance breathlessly, fascinated. She glanced over her shoulder.

"This is headquarters," he said, gazing at the surroundings.

"Headquarters..." Chance muttered. "It's beautiful."

"Mm." Bane agreed quietly. "That's not what I would call it..."

A pause.

Chance smirked at the silence. He patted her shoulder.

"Follow."

"How will I get up the stairs, Bane?"

"You won't have to go up the stairs. Where we're going, you're not going to have walk up."

"So just down?" replied Chance. Bane had turned to her momentarily at her sarcastic response.

She shrugged.

Bane crossed a long bridge, which hovered over the falling rush below. The light hit his shoulders, arms, and back. Chance bit her lower lip as her eyes consumed his retreating figure. She felt her fingers tighten and become sweaty. She cleared her throat and followed him nevertheless. Where they were going, he was right. Across a bridge, through a door, and then they were in an empty room, a medieval architecture that had...

"Why do you have swords and axes against the wall?" questioned Chance, indicating with a sweaty finger.

"It's part of the future. When the fire rises," he said, leading her into the room, "the League of the Shadows will be ready for anything." Bane turned to her. "This is where we regroup once missions have been accomplished. And practice."

"This is what you want me to learn?" Chance said, smiling, hobbling toward the swords.

Her eyes fell on one of the swords that caught her attention. There was a Katana on the very right; the glint of the blade peeked just above the sheathing holster. She smirked. Bane appeared on her left.

"I was taught by a very good teacher," Bane said. He took the Katana off the weapon rack and withdrew the sword. "I've seen it myself; you are very evasive when you fight, and despite your efforts"—he smirked—"I was still able to flatten you."

Chance gave him a look.

"In any event," Bane continued, "you will learn how to use this. Actually, two."

"Two." Chance repeated curiously.

"Duel threat." Bane stated.

Chance nodded.

"But first, before I put a sword in your hands," said Bane, replacing the sword on the rack, "you have to confront your fears."

Chance's spine shivered.

"Now?"

"No." Bane said apathetically. "You can barely stand. Training will come, as I said, in a month; though with your healing process, I'd say in less than three weeks. I'll have the prisoners clean your—"

"Wait, what?" Chance stopped him. "Prisoners? There are prisoners."

"In the cells." Bane indicated the tighter cells outside the room. "Those who try to stand against us...deserve a punishment far more severe than death."

Chance shrugged.

"I'm not above holding prisoners; I _was _curious why you did have prisoners." Chance smiled.

Bane shook his head, though a chuckle left him as he gestured to follow.

_Huh, what do you know. The man actually laughs._


	8. Justice and Vengeance

City in Pieces

Chapter Eight: Justice and Vengeance

Bane's underground lair was, by far, one of the greatest sights Chance had ever laid eyes on; not because it was underground or the most obvious way for officers to find it was a death fall to a watery grave, but the fact that it had gone unseen for this long—Chance was, in a word, impressed.

In the past, Chance had been used to running operations when she worked with her alliances. With Maroni, she called the shots, was the leader over thugs. When Scarecrow and Chance were an item, along with working with Ace, Chance made the decisions. Even when she was working with Two-Face, most of the time, her ideas became master plans. Her past romances were with men who didn't mind so much that a femme fatale called the shots, just that she didn't double-cross, despite their successes to do so. Bane was something different in his own entirety. Something new.

Bane made it very clear that he had full control. The men were feared him, but they respected him all the same. He was intelligent, strong, and calm. And he made it _very_ clear about his expectation of a soldier really was. A soldier never showed pain, nor succumbed to it. And they fought exquisitely, ready for any trial. Chance was, by no means, a weak person. Though she admittedly never came across such a beating before in her life as the one Bane delivered a week ago. He was attentive to see to it that Chance understood that although he spared her from an untimely death, he could do it any time.

Chance managed to sort through his actions to understand under five days of being with him that he wanted her to fully understand just how monstrous he could be, and if she played her cards right, he could be a very different person. Chance hesitated to use the word 'kind' for him. Bane wasn't kind, nor was he nice. For a better word, he was polite.

However, Chance didn't want to be the little Harley Quinn to Joker. In a short run, Chance wanted Bane to understand that pain wasn't the perfect way to express himself to her, though his point was very vivid. She didn't want to appear frightened in front of him, so her boldened remarks and sarcastic replies pointed out the fact that although she feared him, she desired more than just the ass who spared her life that day.

In two weeks, Chance's injuries on her arms had scabbed over and became faint scars. Her knuckles had scabbed over and her hand had become one that was busted to a mere sprain, which required only a cold wash cloth. By week three, Chance's stronger right leg recuperated; by week four, her left leg was close to full recovery. Chance followed Bane through the lair using a walking stick.

Chance had taken to Bane quite fondly. In a guilty pleasure, she missed him when he left her bedroom after giving her a check up on her injuries, and that sudden relief when he re-entered her bedroom swept through her like an infectious drug. She found herself constantly watching his eyes to catch the little emotions that his voice didn't carry out. Every now and then, she wondered what he was thinking whenever he caught her gazing at him. Chance's recovery brought approval to Bane's attentions every time he saw her. He didn't even sass her when she was able to walk. In spite of his initial reactions to her, he acted, in a way, as an honest commander whose purpose was to make sure that a wounded recruit recovered successfully.

Chance's take on the prisoners within the pit was this: those who were a menace to society needed to be taken down to the level of a criminal. She recognized the vigilante gig that anybody in Bane's League of Shadows would deny. Taking justice in one's own hands was not vengeance, it was revenge, just the exact opposite of revenge. Chance never believed in justice. It was just a coined term that government used to describe a misled trial that ruled in the prosecutor's favor. Those people on death row could be innocent, but circumstantial evidence used by corrupt bureaucrats were the people who decided who lived and who died. A trial would be fair, but how many were actually justified?

"You have a misplaced sense of the word," said Bane, after listening to Chance's opinion on justice.

"Isn't that what you base your League on? To carry out what the idiots in white wigs could not?" questioned Chance.

"Justice and vengeance do not mix well, much like oil and water." Bane commented. "The only difference is that when anger is involved, it causes a riot. The other simply falls under a bridge, and nothing is spoken of it ever again."

"Anger can fuel the weakest of hearts, Bane." Chance said gently.

"It can also destroy you." Bane said calmly.

"I have no problems with anger."

Bane's eyes met hers.

"I suppose that this," he held up her scarred knuckles with two fingers, "must be a result of a happy spree."

Chance scowled.

"I said that I have no problem with anger. Frustration is a different story."

"You'll learn to channel it." Bane continued. "And it will work for you."

"Does it for you?"

"I'm not an angry person."

"_Really?"_

Bane shook his head.

"By no means was I irritated when I made you bed-ridden, Chance. If anything, I was calm. It was a lesson. Which you learned."

"If you're not a raving lunatic, then why do you wear...? You know what, never mind..." Chance stopped herself, shaking her head. "Never mind."

"Ask."

"No..." Chance muttered dismissively. "I'm sorry I said anything."

"Ask." Bane repeated sternly.

"It's none of my business." Chance rebutted, glancing at him.

"Then make it. Say what you want to say."

"Fine." Chance said, annoyed. She looked him straight in the face and said firmly, "Why do you wear a mask?"

"A childhood injury," answered Bane simply. "My own beating. It caused irreparable damage here, and here." He indicated his unseen nose and mouth. "Chronic pain. It relieves it."

Chance felt her features relax. Sympathy was what she felt for him. To be in constant pain, never to feel relief, was what she had though she'd always feel the first five days in this bed. But to know that there was nothing that could be done...

"No one deserves your sympathy, Chance." Bane said. "I certainly don't, and I have no use for it." He rose to his feet. "You will find no apologizes when you work with me. My men know the lengths that the League of Shadows must go through in order to do what is necessary. If you feel soft, they won't be quite so noble when you fight them. They will use that against you."

"But can't you get it surgically done?" asked Chance softly, inquiring about the mask.

"I don't need it. It does wonders for me, as far as appearances go. Before, I had to prove myself. Now, I simply look at someone, and they think I can strike lightning at them. Just as you did before." Bane told her. "There is no pain that I feel anymore, Chance. What I breathe is the same medication I injected into your blood stream when you were writhing in agony."

Chance stared at him.

"I appreciated it."

"You're apologizing again." Bane scorned her.

"No, I'm not. I just saying that I'm grateful."

Bane shook her head. "Then you will say that you never said 'thank you'."

"You won't accept anything of that nature, will you?" said Chance, frowning. "I can't tell you if ever I'm sorry or if I'm happy? What if you saved my life, could I thank you then?"

Bane started to leave her room.

"You will never have to," he said, then he closed the door.


	9. A Way to Handle Pain

City in Pieces

Chapter Nine: A Way to Handle Pain

Bane's analysis of Chance's recovery was close, if not right on the money. After the fourth week, she was able to stand without assistance. He took her to the room with the weapons, crossing the bridge freely with Chance at his heels. When they entered, Chance was suddenly flanked by men armed with machine guns. Chance froze on the spot, then glanced at Bane who hadn't appeared to realize it. He moved through the room, wearing a woolly black t-shirt and the regular blue cargo jeans. A noise came from him, which sounded like an eerie whistle. Chance observed the men around her.

"What," she asked gingerly, very aware that she was one person, "is going on?"

"Now that you're healed, it's within ethically-inclined logic that you can be broken again."

Chance stepped a few paces forward, suddenly roused.

"_What?"_ she said, pronouncing the 't' in a spat.

Bane turned to her. He held out his arms in a way to express mocking shock.

"Surprised?"

Chance frowned.

"You had these men in this room to ambush me?"

"Not an ambush: training." Bane answered, shaking his finger at her. "You have mistaken my kindness these past few days for leniency, which is not what I am at all. In a short summary, I expect you to show me exactly what you're capable of. You learned that it's a very hard ordeal to fight me, Chance, so I'm just curious as to know whether or not you're capable of handling an army."

"An army?"

Bane clicked his tongue from behind his mask. Chance's eyes looked to the ceiling, and about a dozen more men climbed down from the pillars of stone to land flexibly on their feet. Before she could speak to him, four men blocked her path, standing in the way. She glanced at them irritably.

"Excuse me, but I'm not through discussing this."

"He says you are," said the man directly in front of her.

"Really?"

Chance reacted quickly: she punched him in the jaw, collected his AK-47 from his limp hands, charged the bullets from the barrel, and instantly, the gun became separated chunks of metal. The men formed the circle again, though their eyes changed emotion, something that told Chance that Bane clearly hadn't told them exactly who she was.

"Don't be shocked, gentlemen," said Bane. "She's extraordinary, compared to the petty thieves on the street. Don't hold back."

"Sir?" inquired one of the assassins.

"Shoot."

Chance's eyes widened.

Then the array of men cocked their guns and suddenly the whole room was filled with wild noise. Chance's evasiveness lagged from weeks of staying in bed and merely walking, though her dodging skills were excessive. Chance shuffled through the empty room, kicked off a nearby wall, and hit several targets in the way. But more came. Once, she tried using one of the armed targets as a shield, but apparently he was expendable, for the bullets came through him anyway. Feeling out of breath, Chance was losing an ongoing battle. Then she smirked with some trepidation, knowing it would impede her once more, but willing to take a chance at it.

Chance flew across the room in an obstacle of somersaults, withdrew the Katana sword from the weapons rack, rolled across the stony floor, dodging impacting bullets, and stood behind Bane, slipping the sword just underneath his neck. The bullets ceased as the guns ranged on Bane, who merely stood there, observing the look in Chance's eyes. It was defiance.

Silence filled the room. Chance held the blade at Bane's throat; her hand quivered slightly. Bated breath from the soldiers within the room...Bane's eyes bored through Chance's, then she lowered her gaze from him; secondly, she lowered her sword, dropping the Japanese blade onto the floor in a disappointed way. Bane gestured for the men to lower their weapons. Chance sighed.

"Leave us." Bane told his assassins.

They exited two by two until there were only Bane and Chance left in the room.

After a pause, Bane spoke.

"You know exactly what you did wrong. Don't you?" he said, standing behind her.

Chance licked her dry lips.

"I can't kill you."

Suddenly, Bane was on the floor, taking the sword, then with a swipe, Chance screamed as the blade nicked her shoulder. Blood seeped through her plaid shirt, covering her entire right side in crimson. She crashed to the floor, holding her bloody laceration; it fell through her nimble fingers. Bane's hand grasped the hilt of the bloody sword lazily; he tossed it at her lowered body. Chance's face reddened with anger, and she turned to look up at him.

"What the fuck is the matter with you?" she cried out viciously, staggering to her feet.

"You still haven't learned anything, have you?"

"Why did you—?"

Bane grabbed her bloody arm; she roared in pain and frustration with him and punched him hard in the face. He stepped back from the sudden blow, but watched her recoil with in her bruised left hand.

"God..." Chance whimpered.

"On your feet." Bane instructed.

"Bite me." Chance hissed, glaring up at him.

"If you are feeling so defiant, have another go."

"You're instigating. I'm bleeding..." Chance muttered, holding her shoulder.

"You did do something wrong, but it wasn't hesitating to kill me. You," he said in a low voice, "turned your back on me, which gave me an advantage to do this," he pointed to her shoulder.

"Well, good, you made your point." Chance said darkly. "Like many other times."

Bane shook his head. He replaced the sword onto the weapons rack and turned back to her. He beckoned her to follow him.

He led her to the baths, a constant waterfall that pooled privately in large-sized trough. Chance bent down beside it, ripped her plaid shirt from her left arm, and painfully allowed the water to hit her laceration in medium-sized drops. Bane was there with neosporin, gauze, and adhensive tape. Wordlessly, he assisted in wrapping her shoulder.

"Once we finished, you will need stitches." Bane informed her gently.

"Which you, no doubt, will give me." Chance muttered.

Bane nodded.

He led her back to the training room.

"In the League of Shadows," began Bane, "it is a traditional thing to find those who have potential to become something more, but let fear be their guide. In any case, I've always been able to help men pass that fear and become something that everybody else fears. You, Chance, fear what is only wise. Which is death."

"I don't believe that."

"Believe what you want; it's the truth. In all instances, you manage to win, but any time something has crossed your path that would end you, you recoil. I only graze this subject with you, I've seen it, though, several times when you speak to me."

Bane leaned against a nearby pillar.

"Pain is the step closest to death. You don't handle pain well."

"As any human does." Chance retorted. "If I constant relief, I would handle it well, wouldn't I?" She saw Bane's eyes darken, then licked her lips. "That was a low blow, I know..."

"Nevertheless..." Bane continued. "I can help you ignore it."

"That would be great for future lessons."

"That scratch is the least of your injuries yet to come." Bane told her.

Chance scowled.

"That's just...great..."


	10. A Sword Fight

City in Pieces

Chapter Ten: Sword Fight

Chance stood in front of Bane; he handed her two Katana swords, held them by the blade so that she may take the handles. She winced slightly; Bane stitched her shoulder in a way that it would heal, but so well that the slightest movement made a slight sting. Bane strode behind her, only a few inches from her back side.

"Have you handled a sword before?" he asked her.

Chance stared straight ahead, though for once, she felt self-conscious. She licked her bottom lip nervously.

"No." Chance answered quietly.

"What was that?"

"No." Chance repeated, louder.

Bane's arms raised behind her; his hands fell on her knuckles that whitened around the hilts of her Katanas.

"Relax your grip."

Chance watched his fingers part her own. Her stomach tensed.

"Don't think of them as swords; imagine them as your arms. Not as a brother and sister, but twins." He pushed her hands together so that the two swords chinked as they contacted the fellow mate. Chance saw her reflection in them; behind her, she saw Bane's.

"Mind your footing."

Chance widened her stance; Bane made a sighing sound.

He kicked the side of her ankle with the side of his boot; she didn't stagger.

"Excellent," he told her quietly. "Sure footing is important, always. Never sacrifice it for a killing stroke. That one chance could be your last." He moved away from her. "You're utterly defiant, but a fast learner."

Chance grinned at him.

In next hours, Bane handed her clever ways to move with the swords as if they were one weapon instead of two different utensils. His teaching was clear; it was apparent that his previous teacher had been a very good one. Chance was distracted, though, every now and again when he appeared behind her. Her intense fondness for him was heating and cooling every day, and Chance decided that everything about him invited her in—she just wouldn't admit it aloud in a room by herself. As Bane assisted her in moving stances and parrying, she started to feel comfortable once more with him.

Now that she knew that his mask was to provide pain relief to an old injury, she found him to be less frightening, though he still had his moments. Her fear was death, but she feared him as well. It seemed that whenever he harmed her, it hurt a great deal compared to the wounds she felt at other times. Then again, Bane was very powerful. Fatal.

Bane reached for a sword of his own.

"Ready to put what you learned into practice?" he said.

"If I wasn't," said Chance, "I'd have to make myself ready anyway."

"That's right."

He swung his sword toward her; Chance stepped back instinctively and missed the strike successfully. Bane's sword collided with the floor.

"What have I told you about dodging?" he said in a tired voice.

"Instinct."

Bane and Chance battled for half an hour; though Chance parried several times, just trying to stay alive. Since Bane was stronger than she was, his strikes were much more harder to push off and counteract. Chance finally started to get a bit aggravated in the one side battle and did a roundhouse kick toward Bane's stomach; her swords followed. He caught her foot with an empty hand, ducked her sword-swipe, then threw her across the room. She skidded across the stone and ended at the opposite wall upside-down. Gravity pulled her legs back down to the floor. Chance pulled herself back up, wincing.

Bane sheathed his sword.

"That was impressive."

"Was it? I don't remember." Chance muttered, staggering.

"It _was _impressive," said Bane, approaching her. He withdrew her swords from her limp hands. "You did well for a first try. You're hiding your pain, too."

"Well," Chance said with a slight grin, " right now I'm just very numb. I'm sure in a few minutes, it'll go away."

"You're a very unusually humored girl." Bane told her after a pause.

Chance grinned.

"Follow. I'll have Rocco find you a drink."


	11. The Monitors

The City in Pieces

Chapter Eleven: The Monitors

Rocco was one of the few men that Chance was actually starting to recognize more often. He was a man around 25 years-old, who was attractive in a way that he could charm a woman at a bar, but wasn't up to Chance's standards. He had black locks of hair that fell to the nape of his neck and dark eyes, a sharp nose, gentle lips, and had stubble along his fair skin. Rocco had a slight build, able to hold his own in a battle among maybe five thugs, but any more would overpower him. Chance first noticed Rocco as a member of the League of Shadows when she saw him in and out of her room, cleaning her bed sheets; when Bane wasn't around, Rocco was there.

"He's a member of the League of Shadows, one of the few that deserve it," said Bane as Chance watched Rocco's retreating back clad in a black sweater. He had given her a flask filled with something strong inside it to push the pain away from her wounded shoulder. Chance glanced at Bane. He had noticed her gaze.

"Rocco is one of the loyal titles that have my permission to wander the streets alone. I am certain that he sticks to the darkness when he does." Bane told Chance. He sat down in a swivel chair in front of large monitors. They were in the west wing of the Pit, control centers. Chance stepped behind his chair to lean over his shoulder, glancing at the screens before Bane. He glanced to his left to watch Chance's mane of blonde hair fall from her shoulder to land on his. Momentarily, he watched her fascination envelope on her face as she searched the screens. Realization dawned on her.

"This is Gotham." Chance uttered in an astonished voice.

Bane nodded approvingly.

"The same."

Chance observed one of the screens. She cocked her head.

"This is City Hall." She looked at all the others. "The Police Department...Fire Brigade...Wayne Enterprises...? She turned to see Bane who was still watching her. "Why are you keeping a camera on Wayne Enterprises?"

"It would be wise for everyone in Gotham to keep a look-out in all locations, even ones that don't seem threatening." Bane told her.

"You suspect that Bruce Wayne is a menace?" said Chance skeptically, straightening her back.

"Not all suspicions are concrete, my dear," said Bane dismissively. "Keep an open mind."

Chance hoisted herself on a nearby table. Bane swung himself in the chair to face her full bodily.

"Rocco is very aware of you are, too," he said in a dead silence.

"What do you mean?"

"He recognized you." Bane said clearly, but Chance merely stared at him. "Apparently, you had a run in with him before you entered the sewers."

"I vaguely recall his face. Besides, the men who had attacked me weren't in black masks or ninja costumes," retorted Chance sardonically.

"Not all of the assassins wear black masks. Rocco told me that you were quite..._sadistic..._that day that you decided to find Killer Croc. According to Rocco, it was the worse he had ever seen a woman do to a man." Bane made a noise. "I wonder why you are not as cruel to me as you were to them."

Chance clicked her tongue.

"That's because they didn't almost kill me."

Bane stared at her. "But the crime they were trying to commit was...?"

"Rape." Chance answered automatically. Her cheeks reddened.

Bane enjoyed the reaction.

"You have a personal hatred for rapists alike." Bane said accurately.

"It's a horrendous thing to do to anyone." Chance muttered darkly, sliding off the table. "Thieves can steal and give to those less fortunate. Murderers set people free from their own dispair. But what good does rape do? Nothing. It benefits no one. Makes the victims less significant and those who commit it seem less worthy to live. Nobody wins." She looked at him. "That day when that man tried to have his way with me, before you intervened, I would have killed him myself. No questions asked."

"Why didn't you?"

"I was weak." Chance said coldly.

"This is why you belong with the League of Shadows. To do what is necessary."

"Doing what is necessary won't change anything."

Bane shook his head.

"It's a whole different concept entirely. You've murdered before out of promises to do so. A business transaction, is what you called it. Here, it's something more. But first, to extinguish the fears of others, you must first tear yourself apart from your worst fears alone. Gotham is a corrupt city, and only panic drives the weak to survive. It's been crippling for centuries. The League of Shadows once crippled Gotham, but there were people who weren't afraid that stood up, so we retreated."

Chance glanced at him.

"Soon, we will destroy it, and then those who stand alone will fight each other to the death. You must understand the cult that I lead, Chance. There is a path for you. I've made it. Follow it, and you will succeed. Become a rogue, and you will be like the rest of the world."

"As what?" Chance asked.

"Lost." Bane answered. "You just need to put your trust in someone other than yourself."

"Haven't I demonstrated it to you already?"

"No. You merely proved that you are capable of understanding. Proving yourself is something large in itself. We have a long way to go."


	12. Lieutenant in the Making

The City in Pieces

Chapter Twelve: A Lieutenant in the Making

Summer passed and fall set in for the course of Gotham streets. The scorching atmosphere cooled to a comfortable breeze and the occasional speck of rain fall. The streets from above were unusually quiet compared to the heavy traffic on the busy streets under a full moon.

Chance was comfortable sitting at the control monitors, a drink in hand, as she realized that she had been underground for two months. Her ranking among the Shadows was the experienced recruit who learned quickly and was promoted to a standing leader over about six thugs. Chance's relationships with the other inhabitants were calm and collected; they were allies, but no close friends. The only person who spoke to her as one would to a personal co-worker was Rocco, the said member of the League of Shadows that Bane held some respect for, in his own way.

In the second month of being underground with only the natural sunlight beaming into the large hole in the heavens, Chance adapted to the darkness, and found the light above to be almost blinding when the night turned into day. Within that month, Bane had severely injured her right arm: he broke her elbow in two different places. Chance's tolerance for pain had increased only a bit, but not enough to stop her from falling instantly to her feet and passing out. Bane injected her with the numbing agent again, that she remembered was the same drug he breathed through his mask. Bane showed her how to dress a broken bone when cast moldings were not available, though the process would be three times harder when she would have feeling in her limb.

As Chance spent the third month minding the computer screens, Bane trained recruits coming in after her.

Once able to move her arm without gasping for air, Bane brought Chance to the training room and stood in front of her.

"You're a skilled fighter; you fight like a young woman, which although is very admirable, you're mistaken small punches over opportune strikes." Bane told her. "I can teach you to make your strikes not only opportune, but more effective."

"I was under the impression that I couldn't punch you hard enough because you're about three times my size and weight." Chance said.

Bane nodded his head with acknowledgment.

"There's a trick to that too."

Chance smiled. Bane approached her.

"With lean thugs, they go down easily. With little muscle, there's not a lot of cushion protecting them." He set a hand on her neck. "Men are weakest along the ridge of their collar bone...and the shin." His knee touched hers. He walked behind her; his fingers along her collar bone grazed to the nape of her neck. "When you fought me, you punched blindly. Anatomically, punching me in the face does nothing for you; my skull is stronger than your fingers. Also, you were hitting muscle, which is like wood colliding into steel."

Chance bit the inside of her bottom lip.

"With more muscled soldiers, aim for the lower calves," Bane indicated the back of her legs with his foot. "And the middle of the wings."

"Wings?" said Chance quietly.

She felt his hands lightly tap the inside of her scapulars.

"Wings." Bane said in his low voice. " The spine is a weak element in the body and the most important. Up here," his hand caressed her smooth skin along her shoulder line to settle on her back. "A right strike here paralyzes."

Chance turned.

His eyes bored into hers.

"And if I fight a woman?" Chance asked.

Bane set his hand along her rib cage.

"Women protect their chest and waist, and abandon their stomachs. Which is why it's easy to overpower you." Bane added. Chance gazed at him. "Raise your hands."

Chance held her hands in front of her. Bane closed his hands around her wrists.

"When you block," he said, "lower your hands in front of your shoulders, and you will be able to anticipate any attack."

"Won't that let my waist be open?" said Chance. She glanced at his hands still remained around her wrists. A pause.

"Feeling anxious?" said Bane quietly. "Tell me, Chance. What are you thinking? Walk me through your process." He tightened his grip around her wrists; she stared at him. Her stomach rolled with the familiar pleasure tone, though fear beckoned her tongue to speak.

"I..."

He waited, staring at her through his boring, brown eyes.

"I'm frightened." Chance whispered.

"Why is that?"

"You're restraining me," she flexed her fingers within his grip.

"You can't defend yourself if I kneed you in the stomach?"

"You'd bruise my rib cage."

"You have legs, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then block me with them." Bane remarked.

She stared at him.

"I'm thinking that you'll break my legs again effortlessly," she said to him boringly.

"Your apathetic tone is inspiring." Bane retorted sarcastically. "Take this lesson seriously: it can save your life."

"I'm taking it seriously; it's an honest assessment." Chance muttered.

Bane released her.

"You fear death." Bane told her, "but you fear me as well."

Chance didn't deny it, even her eyes told him so. She stayed silent. Chance licked her lips, trying to form a sentence to reply to it; however, Bane saved her the effort of doing so. He looked around the room, strode to the door and closed it. Chance watched his retreating back. He turned.

"What you need to learn to do is simple, but adjusting to a different frame of mind will be psychologically challenging to you, I fear." He stood in front of her. "For the last six years, taking charge has been your route in life; however, in my League of Shadows, you cannot remain in charge. I'll have future clients who will pay a reasonable fortune, but no one has power over me. Not even God." Bane watched Chance bite the inside of her cheek surreptitiously. "It bothers you. Doesn't it?"

"It's six years of running my own show, so to speak...Sir." Chance added gingerly, hands on hips.

"A 'Sir'? That's different," said Bane sardonically. "Two months have paid off."

"Look," said Chance, "I always called the shots, and most of my plans worked out."

"Most, not all." Bane pointed out. "You have dedication, but the moment a betrayal crosses your path, you simply turn your back and walk away."

"Isn't that taking the high road?" Chance asked him honestly.

"No. To prove a point, you simply walk up to them"—he withdrew a pointed dagger from behind his back and positioned it over her chest; she stared at the blade—"and stab them in the heart."

"I let my past co-workers live out of the hope that they suffer disappointment." Chance said softly.

"Disappointment? How blinded are you?"

"Blinded?"

"You are the only one who suffers disappointment, Chance." Bane flipped the dagger in his hand; he held the pointed blade and offered the handle to his student. "Take the traitors' lives in your hand and let _them_ suffer _your _disappointment. You have committed murders before, some very easily without a care in the world. Why should you grieve over the bodies of those who wouldn't care if yours was tossed over a bridge?"

Chance grasped the dagger's handle and glanced at Bane.

"I always thought it was a fair way to end an alliance." Chance argued.

"By simply accepting defeat, it's against everything we stand for—"

Chance scoffed,

"Then put me beside Harvey Dent or Scarecrow or Maroni, and I'll shove this fucking dagger up one of their asses and then show you just how back-stabbing I _can _be! You're telling me this all the time for the last two months, Bane! I get it, I got it—I got the concept. Up front honesty and secret affairs, theatricality and deception—Hatred versus Anger, I have it under control. Just show me how to fight these people that I'll eventually have to fight and set me as your equal!"

Bane stared at her. Chance sighed softly then stepped away from him. The dead silence in the room was cold. She glanced at him, passed a hand across her face.

"Set you as an equal?" questioned Bane softly.

His voice was a rolling thunder. Chance heard it in his voice.

He held his hands out to indicate the entirety of the lair.

"Haven't I showed you all of this and given you freedom? Even spared you from stronger lessons until you recuperated. I am teaching you how to become more than just a person in spandex, Chance. A weapon in itself. That's a person who should stand by my side, not an expendable goon, which is what you are right now."

A pause.

"Unless," Bane said dangerously, approaching her, "you think you can put _me_ in my place?"

Chance realized that she wasn't speaking to her teacher; she was speaking to the leader of the criminal empire. She held her hands up in front of her defensively. Her commander stood in front of her with his eyes boring into hers. Chance stared at him hesitantly.

"I didn't...mean...disrespect..." Chance whispered shakily, stepping a few paces back. "...Sir."

"I'm training you to become an equal, but it's not a short process. This will take..._years._" Bane told her. "Do you feel in charge when you and I step into this room and I close that door? Perhaps I have been lenient..." he approached her slowly; Chance stepped back.

"Bane." Chance said quietly. "I only meant—"

"Oh, I didn't misinterpret it," counteracted Bane, shaking his head, hands on hips, "No. I believe you spoke honestly. After two months of being beaten by these hands, the truth slips out. And assume how it came to be."

"I only spoke out of the frustration that you treat me as one of the men below." Chance retorted.

"Oh, as a prisoner. That lessens the insult you delivered, not out of frustration, but anger."

Chance was stopped by a wall behind her. She shrunk against the stone as Bane stood in front of her, his daunting figure shading her in a shadow.

"Are you going to brawl, Chance?"

Chance stared at him with wide eyes. She then frowned at him; he was testing her. He knew that she was afraid of him. Then she straightened her back, held her hands in front of her shoulders, and said sternly,

"Do your worst."


	13. Advancement

Author's note: Readers new and old, I've been reading my reviews, and there's some question about whether or not if Bane and Chance will have a sexual/intimate relationship. I do intend to make the hate and love couple intimate, just to let you know. Thank you for all my reviews, I look forward to reading more to come as I know that you all anticipate my chapters. Mutual benefit, yay! :) As usual, enjoy.

The City in Pieces

Chapter Thirteen: Advancement

Bane's intolerance for Chance's insolence was one reason why he challenged her; another was to put it in perspective that although he paid attention to her more than the rest of his crew, she was not something special. She was a recruit, deemed worthy to work beside him, but Chance lacked discipline and respect, and as he always told her, the ability to kill those who turned their backs on her. In the past, Chance murdered; not large quantities as her old pal, Ace, had done, but quite a few to put her in death row. Chance justified those murders by trimming loose ends or fulfilling promises she made to people who worked with her. In this case, she was a careful mastermind.

Bane's intention was to create a loyal lieutenant, a second-in-command who, if Bane should be taken down or killed, would become the League's heir to the empire and lead the men to destiny. Bane already knew that Chance had some issues trying to relinquish control. Although he found her ability to speak to him normally quite intriguing without shaking in mild fear, he did think that her sudden outbursts of anger aimed at him were outrightly disrespectful. He would always be the one who didn't squish her brains across the sewer walls. Her life was in debt to him and she would serve it under his rule.

Bane admittedly cared for her, though not in a way that would have him give up every secret in order to save her life. His medicinal practices toward Chance proved that he at least wanted her alive and well rather than languishing in a prison somewhere. Bane was trying mold her into an obedient warrior, strong in every aspect of the word—mentally, physically, and emotionally durable. He intended to make the rest of the men see that although she obtained a body of a beautiful woman, he could make any person a killing machine, if given the time and effort.

The challenge he had given her hadn't cost her broken bones. Instead, he had handed her the two Katana swords. Her technique had changed since their last battle: less evasive and more offensive, sturdy, and fore bearing. Chance, still, was forestalled by his size and height, and when he was able to force her swords from her grip, she was a dodging insect on the walls and ceiling, crawling from reach. When she landed on the ground, expecting a truce, Bane had taken up one of her swords, and with a simple feat of strength, slid the blade through her rib cage as a means of instructing her to never fly from the situation. His lesson cost her a lot of blood, which he transfused into her via a recently deceased prisoner who shared her blood type.

The wound went deep.

Once more, Chance was bed-ridden for another year.

After the year was up. Bane handed her another chance to overpower him.

This time, she was far more patient, calm, distilled of all hatred. A changed woman. She managed to take him down just barely by wrapping her arms around his throat, staying coiled around his waist by her legs, holding on for dear life. As he had told her, she didn't let go so quickly. Chance, panting, sent Bane slowly to his knees, gasping for air. But Bane had punched her in the face easily. When he had leaned over her to break her body, she had reached for a blunt instrument, and effortfully smashed the pieces of Bane's mask in a screaming bash. It sent him falling to his knees in writhing pain, an action Chance immediately regretted, flying to his side in sudden dismay.

Chance was quick to figure out how his mask could be prepared. With a few tiny screws and some panic in her blood, she had fixed the mask. Together, they had lain on the floor, both exhausted from the other's efforts. Then Bane told her in a word that she had passed his test and a month later, Chance's desire, or one of them at least, was fulfilled.

Rocco was paid a good sum of money to implant a vial of glowing liquid into Chance's forearms. It was a glowing chemical that tinged her skin yellow if ever Bane was around her, to let her know that he was there if she ran into issues whether if he was in the sky, miles above, or just in the shadows. Rocco was also instructed to place a tattoo on the back of Chance's shoulder, a sword hidden by a shade of gray.

"Congratulations, Chance, your efforts have been useful after all." Bane had told her. "Men," he had addressed the entire Pit, "meet your second-in-command."


	14. Upturning Regularity

Author's Note: You all are going to _love_ this one. ;)

The City in Pieces

Chapter Fourteen: Upturning Regularity

Bane tended to the monitors, breathing passively as he watched the people on the screens move through the streets, celebrating Gotham's annual party on Christmas Eve. The fall months have evaporated into ones that were creating frost along the edge of the manhole above, and the water had to be heated to a scorching degree by a blow torch. Bane had adorned a coat made from imported distress synthetic leather, first-class stitching throughout. On the front, it had an innovative button closure; on the back, there was a single vent at the bottom. The color was wide; there were two pockets on the chest, two flapped pockets at the waist, and two inside pockets. Bane's coat made him ever more daunting and in charge.

He was watching the annuals on the screens, looking for search parties. Chance had been gone for four years, out of the daylight, and it was more likely that the last time she was gone for so long, she had infiltrated the Second National Bank; the other time, Chance had been behind Scarecrow, helping him take control of Gotham by using the toxin that was derived from blue poppies on the mountains. The search parties would be conducted inconspicuously on the streets, through homes that would be harboring her.

Bane knew Chance's past. She was a calculating tactician, a cautious leader, a woman who after high school went into the crime field because it profited. Bane now led Chance, and she was a very good second-in-command. After four years, she had become his_ confidante. _He had finally started to trust her, and although he had, at one point, thought that she would leave his side, she proved him wrong.

Bane clicked a few buttons on the keyboards to switch the cameras.

He felt a presence behind him and turned his head over her shoulder to see Chance standing behind him. She looked different this time around. Recovering from a full body cast, extra scars, and a laceration along her stomach line, Chance stood behind Bane looking a little less for wear. From the withdrawal of the sunlight that she usually received daily, Chance's face was death white. She was dressed in a black, wool sweater and matching materialistic jeans. She wore black, fingerless gloves; her wrists were glowing red, due to Bane's presence in front her.

Chance gave him a solid look, not one that was cocky or questioning; it was that look that one would give a fellow co-worker during routine. Just a simple gaze. Bane glanced at her face with inquiring eyes. They flickered up and down her body. Something was different. He found the change along the line of her jaw. He noticed that her long hair had been chopped to her chin.

She smiled at him. For an hour, she watched the cameras with him. Bane then rose to her feet and guided her to the training room for the daily combat practice. Chance crossed the floor quietly to the weapons' rack, took the two Katana swords out from the handles, then turned to Bane, who was waiting for her with a sword in his own hand. Chance flipped the swords in her hands like a talented juggler; Bane stared at her.

"Amusing."

"Thought I'd upturn the regularity," Chance said seriously. She strode in front of him.

"That's what this is to you now these days? Routine? The assassins outside this room call it hard training." Bane told her as he walked up to her, unsheathing his sword. The metal shrieked as it came out of its concealed case. Chance held the swords by the handles and slid them out of their sheaths. She stood in front of Bane.

"My apologies, Sir," Chance said dismissively. She raised a sword and slid her blade along Bane's longsword. "Ready?"

"You're asking me?" said Bane, nudging Chance's Katana with a rebuttal. Chance was pushed back by the small force.

Bane wielded his longsword toward Chance's shoulder in a heavy stroke—Chance threw her Katana duel swords in front of her and crossed them to shield herself. It skinned against her two swords and barely caught her neck; Chance pushed him away with increased strength. He pulled his sword back and swung at her leg. Chance jumped the stroke; she pushed his sword on the ground, climbed his sword and wrapped her legs around his neck. Chance twisted her body to pull him down the floor. Bane caught her by the waist with his empty hand and slammed her innto the floor. She yelled out a grunt, but rolled away from him before he could pound his fist into her stomach. Her fighting skills had improved greatly; after so many body casts, scars, and bruises, eventually anyone would figure out Bane's moves and become almost predictable. After two hours of this, Chance had actually managed to shed some of Bane's blood from his arms and legs. Rips were in his sweater and jeans. Chance's eyes glowed triumphantly as she circled him.

"You fight very well," said Bane. "But how much have you really learned?"

"I learned enough, Sir." Chance told him. She straightened her back then threw her swords to the side.

"Feeling brave?" inquired Bane, indicating her discarded weapons with an open hand.

"No. Feeling confident. Challenge me."

"You understand that if I do challenge you, the rules go out the window."

"I know." Chance said, holding her hands up in front of her shoulders.

"Four years later, you still amuse me." Bane sighed, then he chuckled. "But I admire your gumption. All right."

"One condition." Chance said, raising a finger.

"Name it."

"You lose the sword." Chance said, pointing to said weapon.

Bane shrugged, then he tossed the sword to the floor. He observed her clothes. There were few rips and tears in her sweater. Bane could see blood along her right arm. Chance waited for Bane to make the first move.

"Awaiting an invitation, Lieutenant?" questioned Bane, indicating her still position.

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" said Chance, as Bane strode closer to her. She kept her hands straight.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

"No can do, Sir," said Chance with a growing smirk. "Rules are off the table. If you were"—she stepped back slowly as Bane came within an arm's length of her—"a real enemy of mine, I wouldn't even let you know what I was thinking."

"Are you sure?" said Bane, watching her walk patiently. "You are more controlled than the last time we did this. And brave."

Bane feinted a punch to her shoulder; Chance flinched and jumped back two steps.

"Evasive?" he said.

"Just on my toes. Warming up."

"Amusing. But a good sense of humor won't save you from death."

"It breaks the ice." Chance said sweetly.

Chance balled her fist and jolted his shoulder; his muscle was like punching a brick and although it hurt her, she was successful in pushing him back just a little. It was better than before. The last time she hit him, he didn't even budge. Chance stuck her leg up in the air and shot him across the neck with her combat boot. Bane grabbed her heel. Chance pulled her other foot from the floor, stood on her hands, and kicked his arm; he released her when her heel hit his fingers in a painful smash. Bane kneed her in the face and she went down. He bent down on his knees, stuck his hand in her short locks and wrapped his fingers tightly in her blonde hair. Then pulled. Chance, silent, flipped her leg flexibly and hit him with full force in the face. Bane grunted and reeled slightly. His breathing echoed from the mask. Chance took a deep breath, gritted her teeth, and pulled her head away from his vice grip. She heard her hair start to rip from her head before she actually felt it. When Bane glanced at his hand again, he held a few inches of her hair. He glanced up at her to see blood trailing from her forehead. She smirked at him before she kicked him hard in the crease of his neck. He fell on his back. Chance raced toward him, straddled his waist, took his hands and crossed them over his chest. Her blood fell from her forehead to her cheek, dripping off her chin to land on her chest.

"You have beaten me, Chance," he said, looking at her from the floor.

Chance lowered her head to his face and smirked.

"I know."

She kissed his cheek.

Bane stared at her.

"What are you doing?" he said seriously.

Chance straightened, still sitting idly on his waist. She could feel his stomach rise and fall. Chance released his arms, though she already knew that if he truly wanted to make it fair, he'd have already clobbered her and sent her flying through the wall again. Bane continued to look at her as if she was just a bit over the line. He watched her.

"What are you doing?" he repeated in the same tone.

Chance bit her lip, gazing at him underneath her.

"Four years, Bane," she said in a sigh.

"You haven't beaten my challenge, Lieutenant," he said, setting his hands on the floor on either side of his body. "You're idling. If I were your enemy, you would have been dead by now."

"But you're not," said Chance.

"Your answer indicates two points. Clarify?"

"I know you're not my enemy, and you're not dead." Chance remarked.

"Both true." Bane said.

Chance leaned forward again. She folded her arms on chest, goodness knows there was enough room to do so. She felt hot flashes, a sudden heat around her neck and the back of her shoulders. Then another heated spot along her spine, and then an aching pang from between her legs; it became a greater presence when she felt his stomach rise and fall beneath her.

"Chance." Bane said.

"Hm?" she said quietly, setting her head on her folded arms.

"What...are you doing?" he said again, staring at her.

"Resting." Chance answered in a light voice.

Another rise and fall from his muscled torso added another pang to Chance's heated body. Beneath her arms, she could define Bane's muscles, then she imagined his body the first time she saw him. A chest carved from stone, and a stomach chiseled by angels.

Bane watched her. He felt a sudden heat from her that seemed to radiate. Bane's eyes fell into hers, but not matching the kind of gaze that she was giving him. He recognized the look, he wasn't ignorant. Bane knew, for a while now, that she ached for him. Which, in some way, made it enjoyable to hit her or break her body, and when he did, she was predictable: no matter how many times he could harm her, she always came to his side like an obedient lap dog. Bane had one friend, which he still associated himself with but never had a regular conversation. She was part of his League of Shadows, but wasn't a member. But Bane found it odd how such a powerful woman like Chance could melt so easily when she faced him. Even when she was afraid of him. Which he knew this too.

"You are acting out of boundary...Lieutenant." Bane said, coining her title in a pointed voice. "I will have to ask you first, then make you secondly if you don't do it the first time. Let me up."

Chance shook her head slowly. She tapped her fingers on his chest as she did so.

"No." Chance said in a purr.

"I was wondering when you would rebel." Bane told her. "Since you are my second-in-command, I'll give you second try. Get off me."

Chance smirked. She uncrossed her arms and wrapped them over his shoulders. She set her knees on the floor on either side of him and hovered over him, trapping him in a fragile cage with her body. Chance's hair fell down in her face. Her piercing blue eyes peered out from her light hair. He stared at her.

Chance lowered her head, steadying eye-to-eye with him. She whispered,

"Make me." Then added in another purr, "_Sir."_

Bane sighed behind his mask impatiently.

"Must be a female instinct to bond with dominant males..." he said to no one in particular. "But," he said, pointing this to her, "your instincts must be knocked out of place from our practices." He raised a hand. She glanced at his fingers as they came to her pointed chin. His hand grazed the apple of her right cheek. "However," he said in a hoarse voice, "I'm not submissive."

His straight hand formed into a fist. Then he punched her in the face.

His knuckles collided with her jaw, and she fell to the ground beside him. Chance uttered a painful groan. Suddenly Bane hovered over her. His feet were on either side of her stomach. Chance moved her mouth and popped her jaw. Blood peeked from her lip. Chance turned her head to spit a mouthful of it onto the floor.

"With all your strength," said Chance from below, "you use it to train me. Why don't you use it for something else, hm?" she chuckled.

Bane stared at her.

"Four years of injuries," said Bane in a disappointed voice, "and you've gone from being fearful to simply a wild BDSM kitten. How unimpressive."

"Unimpressive?" said Chance. She shook her head. "I was never physically inclined anyway. Intellect is my home field advantage."

"And even that is unimpressive."

Chance set her hands on his boots that straddled her stomach.

"Insults don't rile me anymore," she sighed. Then she grabbed his pant legs and raised herself up. Chance stood in front of him with a doting look on her face. He simply stared at her.

"Go on." Chance said easily, wiping the blood from her lips. "See how much of it I have left..."

"You're trying my patience." Bane said dangerously.

"Good." Chance sighed, staggering slightly. "I like it like this, Sir."

Chance slapped him across the face with the back of her hand. It collided painfully with his mask and had her knuckles bruising. His eyes bored into hers. He reached for her neck; Chance blocked his hand, pulled it past her waist and planted another kiss on his right cheek. He didn't react to it, but merely took her waist and pushed her against a nearby wall.

Chance smiled at him.

"Are we still fighting?"

Bane slapped her across her face. Chance touched her cheek gingerly, feeling another bruise coming on.

"I'm growing tired of your smart-ass remarks, Chance."

"I hope so, I'm laying it on pretty hard, aren't I?"

Chance grabbed his throat with her hands, and she pushed off the wall with her feet. He was shoved so hard by her forceful kick off that she managed to get him down on the floor again. Chance sat on his chest. Her fingers wrapped around his throat again to regain control.

"No rules apply," she breathed.

She slid her body down to his waist.

"And what exactly are you intending to do?" he said.

She released his neck.

"You are the only man that I've ever met who's ever dismissed me so easily," she said, hands on hips.

"Are you so sure that they actually wanted anything but what you're trying to get from me?" Bane inquired, observing her frustrated gaze.

"I'm not talking about those fuckers who betrayed me. I'm talking about all the other men I talk to in bars or in dance clubs, or fucking muggers on the street. You are absolutely the most frustrating human being that I've ever met."

"Because I don't have a rapist wit, that's hypocritical." Bane chastised.

Chance sighed irritably. She stood up.

Bane rose to his feet.

"I'm cooped up in the same living space and you don't feel anything!" Chance said angrily.

"When I recruited you, I aimed to train you to be my second-in-command, not a lover."

"I'm not talking about a fucking romance." Chance snapped. "You don't respond."

"Oh, so what you are asking me is not why I have no attachments, just why I haven't broken into your room and decided to take advantage of the fact that you're a woman...I'm not having this debate with you." Bane shook his head. "I've never had to deal with this drama as a child, and I certainly won't have to sort through it while I'm a man."

"Don't try to figure it out." Chance said, striding toward him. "I am giving you the advantage: _enjoy!"_

Bane stared at her.

"Four years. You finally broke."

"It's a crime that for so long, we train and train...and _train, and train some more_ that even though what _does_ get me hot is a strong body and a smart mind _is_ what you have, I can't have anything thrown my way?"

"There was, but you declined."

"Yeah, because he was a _rapist_, who was trying to get his ya-ya's out while my legs were broken!" Chance said angrily. "Is that what you like? Fine."

Chance held her hands out.

"Go on and break my legs. Then you and I can finally do it."

"For one," said Bane, "that actually _isn't_ what I enjoy, and to be quite honest with you, I'd rather see you cowering against a wall then being what you are now."

"And what is that, _Sir?_" said Chance aggressively, standing right in front of him. "_What_ exactly am I now? Unafraid, unabashed, out of line?"

"Out of my face." Bane said dangerously.

Chills went up her spine, but she liked it.

"Make me." Chance hissed.

Bane punched her in the gut. She staggered backward. Chance raced toward him; he picked her body off the floor easily, then tossed her toward the weapon rack where she collided into the rack of axes and swords. Chance rolled on them and hit the wall they were place in front of; she uttered a painful gasp. Chance's wool sweater was ripped in more places. She grinned at the approaching Bane.

"That's more like it..." she said hoarsely.

Bane reached for her, wrapped his hands around her throat and pushed her against the wall. She held his pressing arms. Bane watched that grin on her pretty face widen. She enjoyed the pain after all those years of being beaten. Chance slid her hands weakly along his rippled forearms and pulled on his sweater; the sleeves fell off, hanging by strings.

Chance gasped for air. Bane released her neck, but when he did, she punched him in the face again.

"Stop this." Bane said, annoyed.

"Make me." Chance said through her gasped windpipe.

Chance tore at his shirt. His chest and his strong stomach were revealed. She wrapped one arm around his neck; her other hand felt along his chest hungrily. Bane sighed irritably.

"Persistent..." he muttered.

"No," said Chance quietly at his glaring eyes. "_Determined._"

Bane released her. Chance wrapped her arms around his waist. She pressed her body against his own. Chance gazed up at him.

"Please..." she said just as quietly. Her fingers straggled up his muscled back and retreated to his chest. Bane stared at her.

"You know that you are begging me." Bane told her in his deep voice.

"Yes..." Chance said in a starved whisper.

She wrapped her fingers through the loops of his pants and pulled him close to her. She was a sandwich between the wall and Bane. Chance bit her bottom lip as she bore her eyes into Bane's darker ones. He sighed.

"Please..." Chance said in a wanton voice. She pulled on his waist again to have his pelvis pulse against hers. She grinned at the result of what she felt.

Bane stared at her.


	15. SexStarved

The City in Pieces

Chapter Fifteen: Sex-Starved

Chance was sex-starved. And the fact that Bane hadn't expressed any sexual arousal about her or even claimed to have any at all had her frustrated to the point that after all this time of getting beaten by him, stationed in the same room all the time, Chance had developed a sexual tension release every time he would hit her. The harder he kicked Chance, or the more times he had tried to bat her off and become complacent, Chance's passive-aggression vanished and anger entered her body. Chance was afraid of him, but anger distilled any fear.

Chance had pulled Bane out of the training room to her new quarters, a better room than her prisoner's cell, but not a master bedroom. Chance's anger had diluted once Bane gave her permission, and although she still craved his body, there was caution somewhere mixing in her heated stomach.

Bane's own intention of satisfying his hungry lieutenant was merely to stop her disobedience and, selfishly, to cure a long-term, stagnant dry spell: as the situation was current, she _was_ the only female in the pit.

The moment Bane closed the door, Chance threw herself at him.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her lips to his neck. Her flying body pushed him against the door, slamming him into the steel with a _bang_. He was mildly surprised by her sudden strength, intrigued even. Bane felt her lips part, and her wet tongue slid along his collarbone. Her hands groped along his chest, shredding the rest of his wool sweater from his body. He took her by her petite waist and pressed her pelvis against his, letting her know just exactly what she was expecting. His grip around her hips tightened as one her hands left his chest, dipped between them, and grazed his growing erection through his cargo jeans. Chance grinned up at him.

"I wonder," she said breathlessly, "what you can teach me in this department."

Bane's hands fell to her bottom; he gripped her tightly, dipped his head over her shoulder and said in a hoarse voice,

"Keep your screaming to a minimum."

Chance's eyes fluttered, as his voice so close to her ear was a thundering roll.

Bane took her by her stomach and then threw her two feet away onto the bed. She bounced off the mattress, hit the bed board viciously, back first, then landed on her stomach in the finale. Chance groaned out of pain. She looked up from the mattress padding to watch her commander approach her. Her eyes met his. Chance's stomach jumped as he took a handful of her hair and pulled her head close to him. He remained standing.

"Come here."

Chance pried his hands from her head and shook her head.

"No."

"You're going to make this hard on yourself, aren't you?"

Chance smirked.

"Hopefully," she remarked.

Bane sighed. He grabbed Chance by her sweater and ripped it down the middle. Chance weeded herself out of the remainder of the clothing, rising to her feet on the bed. Her chest was concealed by a sports bra. Bane looked at her strong shoulders; he could remember every scar he had given her, which were all of them. He saw the one on her shoulder from their first sword fight. Another along her neckline. Bane noticed the fresh marks on her from their duel just earlier. Chance's stomach was hard, but not as if she had taken steriods. The work on her abdomen from training exercises gave her a faded look, but it was all the more good to look at.

Chance jumped on the bed slightly.

"Preparing for flight?" questioned Bane.

Chance smirked. She jumped on the mattress once. While she was up in the air, Bane reached up, grabbed her combat boots and pulled. She gasped as she was taken out of jump and landed right in front of Bane, her legs spread appropriately.

Bane undid the button of her pants and pulled them off her in a rough tug; Chance had to grab the mattress sheets to stop herself from going with it. She wore black underwear. Chance kicked off her combat boots. She wrapped her legs around Bane's waist and tugged at him expectantly.

"Hm," said Bane in a voice that Chance hadn't expected him to use. "This is what you want? Oh, no, I'm not giving you what you want so quickly." He set his hands along her inner thighs. Chance bit her lower lip as the sudden ache between her legs throbbed. His fingers were so close, so tantalizingly close.

"You're playing my game," said Chance breathlessly.

Bane chuckled. He tapped his fingers.

"Yes, it's your game. But," he said, "remember what you said?"

Chance felt his fingers along the elastic of her underwear.

"The rules don't apply. And if they did..."

Chance uttered a wanton squeal when he drew one finger along the patch of underwear.

"I'd make them."

Chance sat up straight. Bane leaned forward. He smacked her cheek; Chance grunted and fell back onto the mattress. He pulled her legs so that her bottom was on the edge of the mattress, but pressed his erection along her concealed clit. He held her legs effortlessly, pulling her body to him for only a few seconds, only to push her away again.

"I set this up. You have no control over me." Chance hissed, trying to shake her legs from him.

"You must be joking."

Bane let her legs go. She nearly fell off the bed, but Chance stopped herself from doing so by grabbing more of the sheets. She clawed her way up and sat up straight.

"I initiated it." Chance said, her voice a venomous hiss.

"You must be blinded." Bane told her. "I've gone years without; you managed four."

Chance narrowed her eyes.

"I can have it my way."

Bane shrugged then he slapped her again. The sound of his hand striking her cheek sounded throughout the room then silence.

Chance licked her lips, bleeding again.

"Again." Chance whispered.

"You are one of a kind, aren't you?"

"_Again._"

Bane struck her jaw.

Chance collapsed onto the bed. She grinned at him.

"Why do you take pleasure out of pain?" questioned Bane.

"Not from pain...in general." Chance uttered, straightening. "From you."

"Are you mad?" said Bane.

"Maybe. A little." Chance said slightly. She shrugged. "Hit me again."

Bane stared at her.

"What does it matter to you, anyway?" said Chance, growing irritable again. "_Hit. Me."_

"Quite frankly? There's only so much that the body can handle before—"

Chance kicked him hard in the stomach. Bane grunted quietly. He climbed onto the bed, hovered over body, and ripped at her panties. Chance grinned maliciously. She threw her arms around his shoulders and clawed at his structured muscles as he tossed her frayed underwear onto the ground. Chance reached down to undo the button of jeans but he furiously smacked her hand away. She felt his hand cup her clit. She shuddered, a fantasy of hers beginning to come true.

Bane pushed her into the backboard, spread her legs, and cupped her clit again, only this time, he squeezed. Chance's eyes closed and she uttered a small moan of pleasure. With his free hand, he reached for her sports bra and pulled it apart. Her breasts, relieved of such pressure, fell to a perky stand. Chance kissed his cheek, then dipped her head into his neck, licking once along the nape of his neck. She pulled at his pants again. When he slapped her hand away once more, she merely pressed her hand to the bulge in his jeans and caressed him through the fabric.

Chance watched his eyes close momentarily and she smirked at him.

"You're craving it too," she whispered.

Chance pushed him onto his back. She finally undid the button of his cargo jeans, slid them off with some difficulty. She pulled down his boxers, off they went. Chance was impressed to see him fully nude, and he was, in two words, fully proportionate. Chance's fingers wrapped around him. She felt him pulse beneath her fingertips. Chance slightly pulled on him, only enough to urge a moan from him. That's what she wanted to hear. Chance leaned forward.

"Sir," Chance said with a smile, continuing to grope him.

Bane's chest rose and fell heavily. Without warning, he moved. Chance backed away, then she laid on her back when it was obvious that he was going to be the one in control. Chance was hidden by his massive shadow. Compared to his body, she was a small thing. Chance spread her legs and gripped his waist with her knees. He made a scoff.

"You're preparing for what exactly?" he said, tapping the underside of her chin.

"For some pain." Chance answered.

"As I said," said Bane patiently, "keep your screaming to a minimum."

"Duly noted, Sir," said Chance with a smirk.

Bane held her waist and then, with no warning..._whatsoever..._he pushed into her clit in an immeasurable force. The action looked like he might have stabbed her in the clit with his penis. Chance's screams were shocked into gasps; her hands came to his arms and her fingernails embedded into his skin, causing his muscles to bleed. He pulled out slowly. Chance gasped for air, then when she could breathe, he pushed into her again. Her legs tried to close out the impact of pain, but Bane took her thigh in his hands and pulled them open.

"Oh...God..." Chance breathed.

Bane pulled out. This time when he pushed through, Chance uttered a pleasurable moan. Her fingernails dug into his arms. Hot liquid extinguished from her; her head fell back against the head board in rapture. Bane groaned as she clenched around him. Her legs squeezed to close; Bane pushed them apart again and Chance uttered another moan, this one louder.

"Again..." Chance moaned. "Again."

Bane's thrusts occurred more often. He found her constant attempts to close her legs a bit aggravating, but she was quite a little beast. Chance's moans turned to squeals as he pounded into her, though he didn't need to use full strength. If he did, he might have had the capacity to literally split her in half. Chance's experiences in sex hadn't been bad: they just weren't this..._good._

Bane's hands around her thighs left bruising, though as the situation was this, Chance all the more enjoyed it. She moaned his name as he pushed her to orgasm the first time. When she reached her climax, she squirmed beneath him. The harder he tried to keep her still, the harder she came. He rode her orgasm to the point where she was screaming, and even though he had told her to keep her noise to the minimum, he didn't attempt to keep her quiet.

And she turned out to be better than what he had once contemplated. Her strength in muscles weren't impressive, but she managed to meet his thrusts, clenching sweet enough that it brought about his orgasm.

After the sex had actually finished, Bane pulled out of her and laid on his back, breathing heavily through his mask. Chance weakly crawled beside him and stared up at the ceiling. She licked her lips and glanced at him.

"Sir," she breathed.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"I told you that you would never have to say that." Bane said seriously. Chance glanced at his chest that rose and fell quickly. She smiled at him.

"I know..."

"Then when it comes again, don't say it."

"Again?" said Chance, amused. "There's going to be a next time."

"Planned? No. But I am a man after all. All it takes is one time." Bane told her. He looked at her. "And Lieutenant..."

Chance met his eyes.

"Yes?"

"The next time that I tell you stop whatever it is that you're doing," Bane said, "you sure as hell better do it. No repeats."

Chance nodded.

"Yes, Sir."

"We're clear on that?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good...now...get dressed. We have training."

"Training?"

Bane rose to his feet.

"You never completed my challenge. And since your weak in the knees," he said, pulling on his boxers and jeans, "it'll be practice for you to recover from harsh labor and then fight."

Chance winced as she tried to sit up.

"Oh, God." Chance muttered.

"Meet me in the training room. You have five minutes."


	16. When the Past Returns

The City in Pieces

Chapter Sixteen: When the Past Returns

After the Christmas furlough, January approached with the fifth year of Chance's absence around Gotham. As her fifth year under Bane's command rounded at midnight, Bane handed her the duty of training the recruits. Rocco, the handsome soldier, was among the selected few who supervised her program. Chance led the five newbies into the room. All five appeared to be desperate men, fighting after a long struggle only to have succumbed the future benefits of the League of Shadows. They had already met Bane; Chance could see the tale tell signs on them easily: they could barely stand, and all eyes stared at her in fear.

Chance adopted a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather jacket; she wore combat boots. Circling the new recruits, she watched them shake in front of her. These men could have been about a decade older than her, though they might have seen less carnage than she had seen within the decade she had been underground. The first time that she had been recruited, Chance had remembered that she had felt shocked at the paleness of the faces below the ground. But after her own appearance adopted the paleness, and so the tanned city folk stared at her as if she were a ghost.

"The League of Shadows," began Chance, "offers you a path. For whatever reason, you have become truly lost, and now you seek...what? Redemption? Salvation? Vengeance? All three can be provided here, but most of it will be crushed first. You might ask yourself: where am I?" She spread her arms out in front of her to take in the Pit.

"Gentlemen," she said, "You're home."

"Ma'am," said one of the men, shivering from the cold. Chance met his eyes. "Can...Can we sit down...? My friends and I are cold, you know, from the outside...We can barely stand..."

"No." Chance said seriously. "You are to stand."

"But, Ma'am," said a second recruit. "We just came in..."

Chance stared at them.

"We are not a shelter. If food or water is what you seek here, and solely that is your purpose, you may leave." Chance's eyes glazed over the men's challengingly. "However, the likelihood of escaping isn't a fair one if you should decide to do so." She indicated the hole in the ground above. "That is your way out." She gazed at the sunlight. Then Chance turned to them. "If you want to leave, you'll take a rope that will save your fall, but so many prisoners have already tried, it cannot be done. Unless you risk death. Without the rope."

Chance shook her head. She strode behind the men, joining their gaze at the light.

"It's a shining ray of hope in a dismal den for you five, isn't it?"

The men nodded.

"Prisoners have died here, aching for a way out."

"What were their crimes?" asked one of the men.

"Interception." Chance answered. "Lawlessness. Murder. Capital Punishment is a right, not a gift. As the League of Shadows, we do what is necessary, what society is so reluctant to do. We provide families instant relief when they find out that coincidentally after being set free after a month of jail time for killing a child, a stranger who had no alliance with the child has taken out her murderer, and sent him to hell to have his crimes performed on him. Hell is repetition, recruits," said Chance. "This is Hell on Earth. If you make it that way, anyway."

Rocco observed Chance from the side lines, watching her first day with the newly arrivals. She was doing well, and although it was from a female's voice, Rocco could hear Bane telling himself all these things. Rocco, too, glanced up at the rays of light beaming from above.

"These prisoners are tortured?" asked one of the men quietly.

"Some. Most die of shame." Chance answered. "Their bodies aren't tortured, but their souls. Simply wasting away in their cells, trying to figure out how they could have ever failed at what they thought they could have accomplished. Hope is built in this legacy, Recruits. And it can give you all sorts of strength. But _crush _it," said Chance, miming the action with her fingers, "and you can almost number your days before you suddenly just decide 'I'm done'."

The men flinched.

"However," said Chance, continuing on passively, "the League of Shadows is not trying to destroy you. It's a cult that helps those who have lost their way find a purpose in their life. You men were found in cells, I imagine. Broken-hearted, broken minds, burning bodies...Lost in the world. I can give you that path. But you must truly _want_ it. And you must face your fears.

"Theatricality and deception are incredible agents to the uninitiated," said Chance. "But in order to pierce fear into others, you have to become an idea. Not just a man, flesh and blood, but a symbol, which is what the League of Shadows represents. For years, the League of Shadows has been passed through generations of children. They die, but the legacy still lives. Just as we do," continued Chance.

"And what," asked one of the men, "do we fear?"

Chance smiled.

"It isn't a rhetorical question that I can answer. You know it if you think hard enough. And that's the hard part. _Think_ of it, embrace it, then fight it."

"What if it's an abstract?" asked one of the men.

"Make it real, then," said Chance.

"What do you fear?" asked the man who had spoken to her the very first time.

"I used to fear death," said Chance gently. "But no longer."

"What do you fear now?" asked the same man.

Chance was about to open her mouth when the door opened and Bane entered the room. Chance remained silent. The men stared at Bane in encased fear, eyes widening. Chance folded her hands behind her back. Her wrists glowed red.

"They're looking a little worse for wear," said Bane, striding behind Chance to stand beside her. "Have you updated them on the present situation, Lieutenant?"

"No. Not yet, Sir," answered Chance.

"Then allow me." He turned to the five of them. "You will not be granted mercy here, men. Training will be devastating. Taken seriously, this will be easier on you, but not by much. Act foolishly, and you will face consequences. Make no mistake." He glanced at Chance. "It seems, Lieutenant, that I might have to have you travel upstairs."

"Trouble?" inquired Chance.

"Actually, a bit, yes."

"Of what nature?"

"I'd rather show you." Bane said coldly. "Follow."

Bane left the room. Chance sighed then turned to Rocco.

"Continue."

Rocco nodded. As Chance closed the door behind her, she saw Rocco stride to stand in front of the new recruits. Bane's thunderous footsteps echoed throughout the large pit. He watched her enter the monitor room then indicated said trouble with a drawn hand. Chance leaned forward over the table to gaze at the monitors. The screens were frozen purposely. A double homicide and it looked like someone had just performed an armed robbery. Chance's eyes, though, narrowed on one of the frames. Her stomach dropped.

"Him," said Chance, pointing to a man on the screen. Said man was wielding a machine gun, wearing a purple coat and a green vest. "Joker." Chance's eyes moved about the monitors. Chance glanced at Bane then indicated one of the screens. Her finger found a woman in another frame taken a few moments before the first, wielding knives in her hands. Chance recognized the girl's face: the blonde hair, the crazy eyes, and that smile on her face she wore every time she enjoyed her carnage.

"Ace." Chance uttered quietly.

Bane nodded.

"They have been on a hiatus," said Chance softly, still watching the screen.

"From what?"

Chance sighed.

"I was responsible for the Arkham prison break five years ago," said Chance. Bane looked at her. "I guess they've been lying low. Now that Gotham is more dormant from the mob bosses taking the city, Joker and Ace have begun another raid. They do this when they think that Gotham needs a new class of criminal," she continued. Bane continued to stare at her. "Joker is a whole different personality. He's not afraid of thugs, drug lords, not even death. He could burn the city and watch it slowly fall into panic. Chaos is what he likes, so does Ace. They mean to upset the established order, but not tear it down completely."

"They will upset _our_ order, what we have been building for years to come. I did not come all the way from an African pit to watch this city be tormented."

"You said we would torture it," said Chance, turning to him.

"Then watch the city tear itself apart; fear has been done. That was completed when Crane and Ra's al Ghul infected this city with poison. Chaos has already been undone."

"Sir, this isn't a matter to these two," said Chance, indicating the rambunctious couple. "I've worked with them, I know them. They _don't_ care if panic has become the word of the day—they _like _watching the people around them run like chickens with the heads cut off; it's not that they're a rabid duo," said Chance, slightly irritated. "They may improvise, but improvisation is a plan of its own."

Chance wasn't annoyed that Bane thought that Joker and Ace were a threat. They were. But she felt as if Bane was underestimating Joker's abilities to pierce Gotham with his own method of panic. Not everything had to be beaten or plundered to fear someone. Chance knew it. Once in lifetime, she could strike fear into the hearts of others by merely speaking to them. And Chance knew that Ace was not intimidated by pain. If anything, Ace could become a monster with every strike. Ace _was..._a stone-cold killer, and if anyone pissed her off, she never stopped. Hence the split-up and the massive body count at every event.

Bane sighed. He sat in the swivel chair.

"You said to me that Ace was a fighter."

"Yes," said Chance.

"You never mentioned to me that you were responsible for the prison break. If you and this woman had a mutual agreement to quite the partnership, why did you set her free?"

"I did it out of the sake of our friendship." Chance explained, glancing at Ace on the screen. "When I infiltrated the asylum, I only meant to free Harvey, Joker, and Ace. Those who escaped had left on their own accord. I told Ace that although she and I were good friends, we couldn't work together. And if she and Joker were going to be an item, I wasn't going to be a third wheel. So I left."

"You abandoned her."

"I decided to go my own way."

"Did she see your decision to leave as what you say it was?"

"Probably not. Ace would take it personally." Chance said passively. "Passion drives her. That's a bit of the reason why I admitted to myself that she'd have killed me if our fight continued. I would have tried to kill her to get the criminal throne. Ace would've killed me to spare Joker's life. Their relationship is incapacitated by their will to survive," Chance continued. "But I've got a newer ambition this time."

Bane nodded. He glanced at the screen.

"I want you to go upstairs and watch them from above," he instructed. "The years have done nothing to the streets; I've seen them myself. Nothing has changed. I want eyes above and below Gotham. I don't intend on having our operation leaked, not when we're this close."

"Would you like a daily report?" asked Chance seriously.

"If anything dramatic should happen, let me know. Otherwise, stay on your prowl."

"If I should get caught...?"

"By the police? Just remember who you're working for, Lieutenant." Bane said in a low tone threat. Chance bit her lip at the impending warning. An unseen smile met his eyes. "Don't disappoint me."

"I'll do my best, Sir."

"Get ready. I'll meet you in the training room."


	17. The Climb

The City in Pieces

Chapter Seventeen: The Climb

Bane had pondered once in a while about sending Chance into the light, but the aspect of her leaving him was more of a trust issue, still. Four years in a pit, then suddenly released into a world that was free seemed to be a situation that would end up with Chance never returning 'home'. Bane hadn't developed love for her, but a dutiful relationship in which that if she terminated her occupation with him, he'd have to kill her. If she resigned, she knew too much. It was that extensive, and he wanted her to know that. If she left him, there was no turning back. Bane had been confirmed that he was inaccurate as far as predicting her feelings for him. In any case, if her notions weren't of romance, they were loyal.

Chance's abilities had peaked after the time of training with him. More agile and secretive, less cautious but more confrontational. She had developed a lot of strength in her arms and legs, capable to endure a brawl longer than an average thug. Chance had begun to learn that talking wouldn't get her out of a situation. Never bark. Wait and then bite. Bane taught her that theatricality and deception were helpful agents; this would help her create her own home field advantage. Using silence and waiting was a great stance instead of instigating a provocation. Although Bane could understand her quirky sense of humor, laughter didn't help her confront anything. Through pain and anguish, he had been able to mold her in his own image. Someone who wasn't afraid to kill. Someone, like Chance, who—if the situation called for it—could torture anybody for answers.

And some of his skills rubbed off her as well. Bane wasn't a proprietor of just pain. What made him a great leader and commander was his intellectual abilities. He was poly-lingual. He was able to speak fluent Spanish, German, French, Russian, Mandarin, English, Urdu, Farsi, and Latin. From that, he was able to teach Chance Spanish, French, German, and Russian. During her injuries, Bane would speak to her in a foreign language; she would have to reply back in the corresponding language, and sometimes each word was mixed with the various languages. Chance managed to separate what she called 'his bullshit' in order to figure out which one he was speaking in; that took about two and a half years.

He educated her on human anatomy and medicine.

Through the the process of knowledge, Chance was right. He had a much easier time teaching her the logical prompts and foreign languages than when he was practicing her fighting skills. Bane admitted that Chance was, indeed, a very bright woman. She had every right to become offended when her intelligence was insulted. Which begged the question: was Ace less intelligently-inclined? Not incompetent, but did she jump before she thought of the consequences?

Bane waited in the training room. He gathered supplies for her to carry in a bag over her shoulders. Rocco waited in the room with Bane, gathering extra clothing: a bullet proof vest, protective hand gloves, a new pair of combat boots, and a half-masked cowl to wrap around her pretty face. Bane watched Rocco collect the gear.

"Something bothering you, brother?" asked Bane curiously as Rocco stared at the bullet proof vest.

"I just admire her for doing this." Rocco said. "She's the first female I've ever seen to join the League of Shadows. It's quite impressive."

"Women are naturally gifted fighters. Did you know this?"

"No, Sir."

"This is true because it's a woman's maternal instinct to fight back when her offspring are threatened. As a result, if provoked long enough, or hard enough, they begin to adopt that way of life. Chance is a strong woman. If ever she faces her old rival, this woman named Ace, the fight will be remarkable, I imagine."

Chance entered the room.

"Ah, must be Christmas again," said Chance, indicating the piled items and the bag.

"Rocco." Bane said sternly.

Said recruit left the room immediately.

"Remember what I taught you. Stay in the shadows." Bane told her. "Now is your chance to prove what the League of Shadows has been trying to do so for years." He pointed to the manhole above which provided the burning sunlight. Chance nodded.

"Good day, Sir." She kissed him on the cheek then turned to leave.

He watched her climb over the railing. Chance took a hanging rope and swung on it, landing in the middle of the pit. The soldiers circled the pit around her. Chance glanced at Bane, who gestured up at the opening. Chance released the rope. She grabbed a handful of the decaying wall and started the climb without the rope. From around the pit, a small chant started. Then when more men joined in then rang throughout the pit:

"Deschi!"

"Deschi"

"Basara!"

"Basara!"

"Deschi, Deschi!"

"Basara, Basara!"

"Deschi, Deschi, Basara, Basara! Deschi, Deschi, Basara Basara!"

Chance squinted at the sun started to burn her eyes. It was blinding. She pulled herself onto a ledge. Chance turned to see a limb out of reach; she'd have to jump. Chance licked her lips, then she stepped back. At a hard run, Chance hit the ledge with her boot and flew over the large gap. Her hands caught the ledge; her fingernails scratched along the stone. Chance drew her hanging legs up onto the ledge, panting. She looked down to see the men roaring victory.  
Chance crawled out of the manhole.

Same old Gotham. Just colder.


	18. Transport

The City in Pieces

Chapter Eighteen: Transport

After Chance's escape, Bane had his followers move all the prisoners from his lair to the prison in which he was born, the actual Hell on Earth. Bane momentarily had a change of heart when he saw how easily it was for his lieutenant to escape. The prisoners were transported via trucks to a desert, a long way from civilization. From his lair, Bane turned to the monitors where he watched Chance, alone on the street, cross the camera's view. She paced a run into a nearby building; Bane focused the camera. Chance turned. Her eyes met his through the screen, smiled, then blew a kiss at him. Bane sighed then turned to one of his associates, the third-in-command, Barsad.

"Keep a wary eye on the monitors." Bane said seriously. "Watch her."

Barsad nodded.

Bane ordered his minions to cover up the hole above, to block the sunlight. The new entry of the lair was to go by the tunnels of the sewer, re-opening where Chance had first entered the lair via bombing the barricade. There was a rush of panic throughout the lair as the criminals were being pulled out of their cells. Some of them were broken. Heart-broken. And a few had died just moments ago. Bane ordered that those that were deceased be thrown into the water, as it was no use in trying to bring the bodies to the desert only to decay.

If all went to plan, Chance could spy on Ace and Joker's whereabouts and intentions. Just to see exactly what was going on up there.


	19. World Renown

The City in Pieces

Chapter Nineteen: World-Renown

Chance gathered her supplies on her back with a sigh. She wasn't actually free, but merely off her short leash. She stretched a good stretch, then felt the penetratable cold around her: January's chill. She was hot under the ground, now a cool sensation filled under woolly clothes, an she sighed in relief. Chance looked around the streets. It was barren, but then again, who would be wandering the sidewalks anyway? Chance looked up at the sky. The sun was setting. Once more, she would be cast into darkness, though she wasn't complaining. The insta-brightness nearly popped her eyeballs shut, and she had to hold her hand out in front of her to block the intense shine. She felt a bit out of place, standing in the cold with a back pack slung over her shoulders.

Chance shoved a hand in her pocket; she felt something that was similar to paper. Chance withdrew a folded note from her jeans. She set it on her leg and smoothed the creases to read Rocco's print:

Lieutenant Bremly,

In case other members were listening in, your commander couldn't tell you where your new hide-out is. In case this note should be taken by force, our whereabouts and names will remain anonymous. Your recent hide-out has been closed down due to financial overdues. I have talked to a member of our group who resides in Gotham. Go to your regular bar and order a _Basuri._ The man who approaches you will give you further information.

Chance pocketed the note once more and turned to the bar that she had taken by force five years ago when she worked with Chance. It was a Burgundy bar; she had killed the owner. Chance sighed and entered through the double doors. She saw dismal eyes in the background, but they paid no attention to her. She was simply a woman dressed warmly for the oncoming night breeze. Chance sat on the bar stool. Ah. Of all the familiar places.

The bartender had been talking to a woman on the other side of the counter. He noticed a new seated customer, apologized and excused himself, then strode in front of Chance.

"Good evening, dear," said the bar keep. Chance didn't recognize him. "What'll you have?"

"I'd like a _basuri._"

The bartender had started to write the order on his notepad then stopped. He glanced up at her. She met his eyes. His next words were in a foreign language; she recognized it as Mandarin.

"(_You're sent by Bane)?" _said the bartender in a low voice.

"(_Are you a friend of Rocco's_)?" asked Chance in return.

He nodded. Then his eyes realized who exactly she was.

"Oh, my God..." he uttered quietly.

"Not here. Not now," Chance told him gently.

"Is he here?" he asked vaguely.

"No. _He_ is in headquarters."

"You're the Lieutenant," the bartender whispered in awe.

His young face was drowned in inspiration. Chance raised a hand to lower his enthusiasm.

"You're world-renown, Ma'am," said the bar keep, setting his notebook down. He glanced around the tavern to make sure he hadn't risen suspicion. When a few men glanced his direction, he exclaimed, "Honey, sweetie, I didn't know you'd be back so soon from Italy!"

That lie deterred their curiosity. Chance smirked at him from behind her half mask.

"Smooth recovery," she hissed.

"The property's bought and paid for."

"I should know. I bought it." Chance said.

"No, no. With all due respect, Lieutenant, you no longer own this franchise. No, a man named Dagget took control of the bar when he discovered that Chance Bremly was dead."

"Chance Bremly, dead?"

"Yes," said the bartender.

Apparently, the bartender, and most likely the rest of the world who didn't know the woman that Bane had taken in from the street, had thought that the Lieutenant was a female who had given Bane some kind of ultimatum and lived through it. Due to her outstanding courage and will to survive his ruthlessness, he made her his second-in-command in the newly reformed League of Shadows. The League was world-renown, so the Lieutenant was almost legendary. And Chance Bremly was deceased.

Out of curiosity, Chance continued with the half-truth.

"How did she die?" she asked with a smile.

"Nobody knows. Supposedly, she had been searching the sewers for some criminal boss and when some person found her, her body was a bloody pulp."

Chance had been expecting a wild story. But this one wasn't too far from the truth.

"Who found her?"

"Nobody knows. It's weird, though," the bartender said. "This mastermind goes missing and suddenly there's a female in the League. Quite a coincidence."

Chance shrugged.

"Well, that'll always be a mystery." She sighed. "How 'bout that drink?"

The bartender beamed and mixed her a glass. He stopped her from bringing out cash from her pocket.

"No, ma'am," he said. "Not from you. It's on the house, ma'am."

She drank the glass. After a moment alone, she gestured for the bartender to speak to her again.

"Tell me about Daggett."

"Oh, he's a competitior up in Wayne Enterprises. I was told once that he wants control over it, but Wayne's got half the city bought and paid for, richest fucker in Gotham. A prince, you know." The bartender scoffed. "Anyway, Daggett's been hankerin' take over Wayne's company, but he can't convince the board to invest in his shares. Something to do with equality."

"And the present circumstances?"

"Ma'am?"

"The reason _why_ I was brought here in the first place, Bar Keep."

"Oh," he said, suddenly flustered. "Oh, right. The Joker. And is weird woman."

"Weird woman?"

"Yeah. She's a bit edgy."

"Boy, you're throwing your words around." Chance said seriously, staring at him. She was used to Bane's upfront personality: sorting through this man's bullshit was getting very irritating.

"My apologies—"

"Don't apologize, young man." Chance sighed. She drank out of her glass again. "Sign of weakness. Now tell me about Joker and this 'weird woman'."

"Word is on the street that they just did that act. Nothing more."

"Any reason?"

"Well, I don't think there's a reason behind Joker's activities."

Chance shrugged.

"Well, it was worth a shot."

"Would you like an escort to your quarters above the tavern, Lieutenant?"

Chance gave him a look.

"Watch where you fling my title, boy. It might get you killed."

"Oh, right. Sorry—oh, sorry—I mean...Right..." The bartender nodded to her and then scampered over to a customer. Chance smiled to herself. Ah, power once more. She left the bar stool then walked knowingly up the stairs, finding the appropriate room, then crashed into the bed in relief.


	20. An Old Visit

Author's Note: Dear, Avid Readers, I love to read your reviews and am so delighted that you're all watching my story like this - O.O But seriously, I love reading the responses from my chapters and am pleased to see that no one has any negativity toward all the sadistic scenes, ha ha. We've definitely come along a way, and still, we will go on with Chance to see exactly what Gotham has in store for her after being gone for so long. I'm quite surprised just how much this story is catching on, and even a bit surprised to read how many people acutally share the same 'fondness', for a polite word, for Bane. Anyway, I'll continue. Enjoy Chapter Twenty. :)

The City in Pieces

Chapter Twenty: An Old Visit

Chance's duty as a spy was not one that could be done in a fashionable routine. Being a spy was the middle ground to being unseen and seen at the same time. Had to get in with people she could trust but wouldn't rat her out, which after weeding through the shit she had endured before she met Bane, Chance didn't know exactly _to_ whom she could reveal her identity without showing the world that Chance Bremly survived the attack in the sewers. Chance slunk away from the tavern to slip through the night in a black, cocktail dress, high heels, a scarf, black gloves, and a masquerade mask around her eyes to shield her identity.

Chance crossed the streets to enter a large club. The bouncer at the door took one look at her, then let her through wordlessly. She eyed him suspiciously. He whispered, "Lieutenant," then smiled a toothy grin at her with pointed eyes. Chance smirked back at him, then nodded to him. He straightened his back after the slight bow to her, then gestured for her to go through the door. Chance entered the robust crowd. As she had expected, the scene was more of a dirty show than a gala: drunk judges collapsed over teenage sluts; corrupt officers sat at a bar to down their worries in fizzy beer; strippers did their specialty on poles and jiggled their breasts at their clientele.

But Chance wasn't searching for fun. She had one specific target in mind. Chance strode through the heated mess. She felt a presence behind her. Turning slowly, she realized that the bouncer had followed her inside the room. Due to the loud music and the unanimous ignorance of exactly who was in the room, the bouncer didn't bother disguising their conversation in a foreign language. He merely spoke in a normal voice.

"Ma'am, I was told that you'd be here, Lieutenant."

He took her hand in his and kissed her scarred knuckles.

"I hope to be trained by you one day," he told her.

"Perhaps you will," remarked Chance with a light smile. "But as courteous as your introduction is, Recruit"—The bouncer recoiled at her serious tone—"I'd like to see the host. Know where he is by any chance?"

"He's in the top box," answered the bouncer, pointing up the stairs. "He's always got some body guards surrounding him, especially when he's with his mistress."

Chance smiled at him again.

"I know. I've worked with him before."

"He's never mentioned it," exclaimed the body guard.

"And neither would you." Chance added with a smirk. "Such a dangerous thing to do when surrounded by criminals: admitting that you're part of a cult."

"A loyal cult," retorted the bouncer, shaking his head.

"One that kills corrupt beauracrats and fake officers with phony badges, good man." Chance corrected him. "A loyal League, of course, but one that shouldn't be tampered with by any intervention. The stairs to him?"

"There are the stairs, there," he indicated the case. Chance patted his shoulder appreciatively, then climbed the stairs. The 'funky' beat of the music transgressed to a rapid dance made for hard-core break dancers. Some had filed onto the dance floor, twisting their bodies and doing some weird-ass moves, their faces mere blurs as the strobe light above flashed white lights around the room. Chance reached the landing to see several fellas in black sitting in chairs. She spotted the one person in a tuxedo; beside him was a very beautiful blonde. Chance approached the line of body guards. One who looked the burliest rose to his feet when she drew close. Although he towered over her, much like how Bane did, she could see that his so-called muscle was only body mass. She should know: the difference between a huge man, and a muscled man with a large size were Bane and this guy. She smiled at the man, though, appearing to be a curious woman.

"Good evening, Miss," said the body guard. "I'm sure that you'll be kind enough to turn around the other way and go back down stairs. This is a private party for Mr. Maroni. He can't be bothered."

"Oh?" asked Chance. She glanced around him to see the man in the tuxedo glance at her as well. "Mr. Maroni asked me to come up here a while ago. He told me that he had some news to tell me."

"I don't think so."

"Well, would you like to know something?"

The man grinned at her charmingly.

"What's that, little lady?"

Chance roundhouse kicked him in the face with one of her heels; he gasped as he fell to the floor at her feet.

"I don't care what you think." Chance said seriously.

The body guards rose to their feet. From around them, the mistress grasped Maroni's arm frighteningly, hiding her face in his shoulder as Chance rounded on the men. They approached her cautiously. A skinny, muscled man reached for her throat, but he failed; Chance grabbed his wrist and twisted it. His hand cracked and he fell to the floor as well. Three others charged at her with all their might. They pulled her to the floor. Two held her arms down; the third raised his hand to punch her in the face. Chance jolted her knee up between the man above; he cried out in horrible agony as he quivered to the left like a dead animal, holding his beaten testicles. Chance flung her legs over head and kicked the two assailants from her hands. When they freed her, she elbowed both of them in the face. They reeled on the floor with bloody noses. Chance rose to her feet, patted down her dress, adjusted the strap around her heel of her shoe, and then turned to look at the defeated guards around her.

"Please," begged the mistress. "Please, don't do anything."

Chance turned to her and smiled.

"My business isn't with you," she said. "Go."

"Honey," began Maroni, aiming this at his mistress to keep her there; but the woman wanted nothing more than to leave. On Chance's permission, she quickly took up her nearby purse and coat and rose to her feet. "Dear, why are you—?"

"You clearly have enemies, Sal," she told him hurriedly. "Your money's good, but you run with the wrong people. Like her." The mistress indicated Chance with her purse. "Call me later, okay?"

The mistress hurried by Chance. Chance turned back to Maroni.

"Evening, Sally," she said with a smirk.

"Do I know you?"

"Actually, you do. But it's been so long." Chance remarked, striding toward him.

"There _is _something peculiar about you, after all..." Maroni said quietly. Chance sat down in front of him.

"Maroni, it's me."

Maroni stared at her. After a few minutes, realization dawned on him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Chance grinned.

"Oh, my God..._Chance..._" Maroni said incredulously. "You're..._alive!"_

"Very." Chance said.

"Oh, where have you been, girl? Half of the city's police have been out searching for you! Here, I thought that you were dead!" He observed the body guards. "And you managed to find, what? A karate teacher? The last time I worked with you, you only killed those who really were necessary." He observed her face. "Where have you been? You look as if you've never seen the sun in ages!"

"In hiding," answered Chance.

"I can understand that," said Maroni. "Your partner has been wily. Ace."

"We're not partners." Chance retorted. "And I know about that."

"If you know what I know, then why are_ here?_ Still trying to dominate Gotham?"

"No. Not anymore. I left that in the past. This is the present." Chance said with a smile. "I want answers. What is happening? Joker and Ace are planning something, and it's big."

"If I knew anything, I couldn't tell you."

"Why?"

"I'd be killed."

Chance leaned forward and grinned at him wickedly.

"And what makes you think you are any safer out there than in here?"


	21. Beating a Dead Horse

The City in Pieces

Chapter Twenty-One: Beating a Dead Horse

Chance hoisted herself on the kitchen counter, now clad in jeans and a hoodie. She withdrew a cell phone from her hoodie pocket, checked through her contacts' list, and then dialed the number accordingly. Chance took an interest in her fingernails as she listened to the dialing tone. When no one answered and the beep sounded, Chance sighed and left a message.

"Sir," said Chance, "I tried calling you to let you know that I went by Salvatore Maroni's club an hour ago. Apparently, he knows that Joker and Ace are on the prowl. I was going to leave it alone, but he told me that if he knew anything, he couldn't say. It may be a false lead, but I'll find out one way or another. Call me when you get this, Sir." Chance hung up and tossed the little device onto the counter.

Chance pushed herself off the counter and strode leisurely into her living room. She turned to the arm chair closest to her. Maroni stared at her in slight fear, though Chance was sure that most of it was irritation. She had kidnapped Maroni from the club, knocked him with chloroform, then dragged his body through the tavern. The bouncer had assisted her in the process then left with permission. The bartender closed the door behind him when he knew that Chance could handle the rest by herself. Chance strode toward the door and locked it. She then turned to Maroni.

He was bound around the chest and arms. His mouth was taped and his hands were tied together furiously by rope. Chance sighed.

"Looks like my boss didn't answer." She glanced at the cell phone display to check it casually. At Maroni's silence, she shrugged. "It's no worry, of course. If he doesn't answer, it usually means that he's busy. Dealing with drug lords, crime bosses, and criminal masterminds...like you," she added sweetly. Maroni glared at her. "Ah, don't give me that look, you old fucker, you." She patted his cheek delicately. "You should have known that our little deal wasn't over."

He retorted something, but the tape muffled his reply.

"Oh, wait, no." Chance said wistfully, shaking a finger. "I believe when I left our partnership, I said that I'd never see you again." She shrugged. "Well, the past is funny, isn't it?" She turned. "Now, when you told me that if you said anything, you would be killed, I was just going to let it go. But I think you know, or else you'd have never said any—"

Maroni muffled something distasteful. Chance looked at him.

"You need to speak up. It's hard to tell what you're saying when you're gagged. Drink?"

He shook his head. Chance clicked her tongue disappointedly. She walked into the kitchen, took out a bottle of Coconut Rum out of the freezer door and opened the bottle. She poured some of it into a glass; she crossed the threshold and sat on the couch opposite of Maroni in the armchair.

"You know, I'm surprised you're still alive." Chance sighed. "You've got my skeletons in your closet, probably more than my own _boudoir," _she coined the term in a perfect French accent. A charming smile. "But since we worked together at one point, I should be responsible for some of those skeletons." She sipped the rum. "You know, Maroni, I believe the last time we talked, you proposed a little _rendezvous_," she indicated his bonds.

Chance leaned forward and ripped the tape off his mouth in one tug.

Maroni yelled out of pain. Chance rolled her eyes.

"Oh, suck it up..." she sighed. "That didn't hurt."

"Says the one who ripped it off." Maroni snapped at her. "What happened to the control freak? Did you get lessons from Ace? That crazy bitch?" He moved his arms but he just jerked around. She had batted him down very well with tape. Chance smiled at him. Maroni glared at her. "You can't fucking do this to me, Chance. Not you!"

"I didn't do this to you, buddy," breathed Chance serenely. "I have my own men around Gotham, Sally-May."

"Since when do you work with people?"

"Since I found a new path. Thanks for joining in the conversation." Chance said. "I've been gone for five years, seven for you." She sipped her rum. "And I've realized that after all these years, a partnership isn't a bad thing. Trust seals the deal. I didn't trust you." A pause. "I still don't."

"You think I have information that you can use?"

Chance clapped a hand to her glass.

"Good for _you._" Then she frowned. "I don't think you have information, Maroni. I _know._ I had a teacher who taught me how to read body language, voices, even words." She pointed at him. "Your voice, your words."

"You're talking."

"You're not listening." Chance said seriously.

"Just tell me what you want to hear."

"You think that will save you?" questioned Chance with a little laugh.

"How about we come to some kind of agreement...?" Maroni said quietly. Chance could tell that now he was beginning to feel frightened.

"I'm not interested in money."

"Favors?"

"I have soldiers for that." Chance dismissed passively with a wave of her hand. She bit the inside of her cheek. "You're running out of options." She saw Maroni glanced at hand.

"Who did that to you?" he said quietly, seeing the scars on her knuckles.

"They're the least of them." Chance said. "And if you don't start talking, I'll make sure my scars match the ones on your body."

"But..."

"You don't have any scars: I can put them there."

Chance raised the glass. She drank the remainder of the rum, set the glass on the table, then rose to her feet.

"Speak."

"I don't know anything." Maroni whispered. "I don't know anything."

"Answer me: who knows about Joker and Ace's plans? Where are they hiding?"

"Look, Chance, I said, I don't know."

Chance reached behind his head and pulled his hair back. Her face hovered over his. Maroni's face was immersed in fear as he met her piercing, blue eyes. It was if lightning struck them, so bright and daring. Maroni's past with her knew that she was intense, but he hadn't anticipated the new Chance to be so...dangerous.

"Tell me. Where are they?"

"I don't know!" Maroni cried out. "I don't know!"

"Then who _does!"_ her voice was hoarse.

Maroni cried out as Chance pulled his hair back, forcing his head against the chair.

"Please, Chance, stop this! I don't know!"

Chance sighed irritably. She threw his head against the chair. Maroni glared at her as she walked away.

"I'm getting annoyed, Maroni." Chance said, hands on hips.

"Then walk away."

Chance laughed shortly.

"Still think I'm that restrained solo leader you hoped to cock one day?" she chuckled. Maroni stared at her. "I'm not solo, Maroni. I'm not even the sole leader." She smirked when he continued to give her a confused look. "I work for a dangerous man, Maroni."

He suddenly looked tired.

"Chance, I don't know anything. I don't even know this clown's purpose."

"Someone does."

"I don't know anyone."

"You know _something,_ surely. You're one of the top dogs guarding Gotham." She was speaking true, but her voice was condescending. Maroni's face hardened. She was mocking him. "Oh," she said, shaking her head. "Oh, no, wait. Joker and Ace have come to town, so that only means that your job as a crime boss is a piss-poor one, gone to the dogs. Rewind the clocks back a year. I imagine that government wouldn't have even tried touching you. Falcone, for instance, was even well-known at the bar, and he paid off _judges_ to keep him out of jail."

Chance shrugged.

"Then again, Falcone at least had some pull in this town."

"Chance, I have told you everything I know."

Chance's eyes narrowed. She stood in front of him.

"You've told me nothing."

"I _have _nothing to tell you."

Chance scoffed.

"Then you better come up with something fucking clever. That's what is going to be engraved on your tombstone," she added. "Tell me who would know what Joker and Ace have planned."

"I _don't_ know, you fucking bitch," retorted Maroni irritably, spitting his words at her.

His saliva flew from his lips.

"You are trying my patience."

"I don't know what to tell you, Chance." He sighed. "I missed you when you were the smart-alec lackey who wanted to take Gotham as her castle. Suddenly you're just a wild bitch off her leash when she finally returns."

"I don't want Gotham anymore." Chance said simply. "It's full of people who are too cowardly and petty, and those who aren't are too terrified to deliver justice. I am Gotham's deliverer. I can bring it down, and it can be rebuilt from the ground and up. Brick by brick. The rich thrive and the poor are depraved. Well, Maroni"—she leaned forward, her hands grasped the arms of the armchair; his eyes widened—"a storm is coming, and it will come soon. And the men on their pedestals will realize that while they partied in bars, wasted their money on hotels with cheating directors on their backs, and complaining about how their feet hurt in their $200 shoes, Gotham's citizens want retribution.

"The rich will be equalized with the poor, and the city of Gotham will tear itself apart in all-out war between those who deserve to die and those who wish death could come sooner."

Maroni shook his head, or what head he could shake.

"You're psychotic."

"Yeah, well, it comes with the package deal when I joined a group," sighed Chance. She straightened. "Okay, Sal. Spill the truth," she withdrew a knife from her hoodie. "Or I spill your blood."

Maroni gave a withered sigh.

"I've told you...I don't know anything."

"You—"

But Chance was interrupted when her cell phone rang out in the room from her hoodie. She took it from her pocket and answered it, still holding the knife in her hand.

"What is life's greatest illusion?" said Chance into the phone routinely.

From the other end of it, the deep voice of Bane answered,

"Innocence."

"Sir." Chance said, acknowledging Bane.

"Chance, you have Salvatore Maroni in the hide-out?"

Chance glanced at Maroni who watched her questionably.

"Yes," she answered.

"He knows your whereabouts?" said Bane disapprovingly.

"Sir, he was unconscious when my men brought him here. I made sure he saw nothing." Chance told Bane, sitting on the edge of the table.

"What makes you think he knows about the clown?"

"Maroni and I used to work together, remember: he has been in Gotham longer than Falcone had been top dog before he went insane when Crane got to him. Maroni's been acting as the Godfather for some time here in a dive bar in a sports club. He's got Gotham's finest under his silver dollar; if there's news, he's the first to know. Though, he claims that he's got no information."

"You're beating a dead horse if he truly doesn't know anything." Bane said. "I believe my orders were to spy on Joker, not to tie up loose ends. This task is not about revenge, after all."

"It's not revenge, I assure you," said Chance calmly, glancing at Maroni. "I just know how he works."

"It's a dead trail if he hasn't confessed to anything."

"He knows something."

"You don't have the time to beat it out of him, Lieutenant. Move on."

Chance bit her lip aggressively before responding patiently,

"All right, Sir."

"And Chance..."

"Sir?"

A pause.

"Don't ever leave a voice mail on a cell phone. There is a reason why we use code messages."

His voice had become dangerous. Chance nodded.

"Yes, sir. I understand."

He hung up. Chance sighed and turned to Maroni.

"Well," she said, "it looks like that my boss has decided that you're not part of the problem. My orders are to set you free."

Maroni looked relieved.

"Before I do, know this. My men are in Gotham. Some of them are actually the few you've recruited. So who exactly do _you _have in your pocket? Hm? Behave. My men are watching you."


	22. Talia

Author's Note: I wanted to post this much earlier, but the fucking storm keep jacking up the internet! Anyway :D Enjoy.

The City in Pieces

Chapter Twenty-Two: Talia

Maroni was given the official warning from Chance Bremly, Lieutenant of the League of Shadows, when she had stared him straight in his wary eyes and said that although he had corrupted officers in Gordon's people, Chance had some of his men in her 'group'. As a naturally-boastful woman with an intellectual vanity, Chance dearly wanted to tell her former co-worker that she had become one of the most feared people in the world, though if she did, there was the likelihood that the secret identity of the mysterious Lieutenant would be leaked. Maroni kept his mouth shut, but only if it benefited him, which was the only reason why Chance suspected that he knew anything about Joker or Ace. Even when Chance worked with Maroni, Ace had been her right hand woman, if not partner in crime.

Although Chance harbored a personal ill will toward Ace now that her view on carnage was tweaked by years under Bane's tutelage, she still considered Joker's henchwench to be a valuable companion and a very good challenge, indeed. Ace was a kind, considerate woman if given the opportunity to be understood, but with the fact that she was wrapped around Joker's finger that also held the keys to a grenade, nobody could see past her blood thirsty habits. Chance took it sort of personally whenever someone insulted Ace. If they did it to Ace's face, there wasn't going to be much left of them. And for some reason, they thought it was a good idea to tell Chance this.

Years of friendship couldn't disembody an ambition to bring down Gotham. Though Chance had an idea that if Ace actually listened, she'd enjoy the idea of tearing down Gotham's finest elite and putting them down to Gotham's majority class in poverty. Which,_ that_ was what needed to be done. Chance wasn't talking out of her ass when she told Maroni about the storm. She was right, of course. Bane had told her this when he had trained her, when she had to live on nothing short of a bag of food a day and scrape and climb through trenches of pain and anguish only to remain under the earth, though healed. Oh, yes, the fucking rich needed to be brought down to the level that everyone else had to swim just above the surface in order to survive.

Pillaging Gotham's wealthiest, creating something different entirely to create an outgoing war between those who would survive because they had nothing to live for, and those who would perish, for they thought they could no longer survive. And Chance couldn't wait for it to happen. But Bane paced the time. It was a planning scheme. This couldn't be improvised.

So when Bane called her on her cell phone and they responded together by the coded message, he instructed her to return to the sewers using the manhole in the middle of the street that she had taken the first time she ventured through the sewers to find Killer Croc.

Chance waited until nightfall. She hung up her cocktail dress and tossed her high heels into the closet then adorned her cowl, wool sweater, and dark pants. She wore heeled combat boots. Chance threw the pair of Katana swords over her back, pocketed the shining dagger and pocket knife in her cargo flaps, hid a small silence pistol in the back of jeans, and then left the tavern. Before she left, she indicated to the bartender that was part of her clan that she would be going to group. He bowed toward her respectfully as if he were meeting a gentlewoman; to spectators, he was an old-fashioned beau. Chance thanked him for his hospitality, and although she didn't know when she would be returning to her home above his bar, she told him anyway that she'd be back.

The bartender, before she left, told her that his name was useless in Gotham, but asked her to call him "Whiskey". She had smiled and nodded, then gave him a farewell as she went on her way. As she walked the streets toward the center of Gotham, the bouncer she had met at the door of Maroni's club was pacing the road near the manhole. Chance approached him when she recognized his face. He had given her his nickname around the League as "Butch", but if that was his real name, she'd never know.

"Butch"—at the sound of her voice, he stopped walking and stood straight, looking at her uncertainly—"what are you doing here? Jesus, boy, are you all right?" she asked as beads of sweat rolled down the side of his bald face.

"Oh," he sighed in relief. "I thought that you weren't coming."

"I don't understand."

"Oh, I was to escort you down there." He indicated the sewers. "Orders," he added when she simply looked at him.

"Did your commander tell you that?"

"Direct orders, Lieutenant."

"Direct orders." Chance muttered. "Were you sent here to spy on me?"

"Ma'am, I was." Butch answered honestly, though it looked like he had tried to restrain himself. "Bane," he said quietly, "requested at your expense to watch you when you made yourself at home."

"Ah." Chance sighed. "I see." She gestured for him to go down the hatch. "Let's not keep him waiting then."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Butch bent over, unscrewed the manhole cover, then allowed Chance to crawl down the ladder. Due to the length of the construct, Chance let her feet dangle, and she slid all the way down easily. Her fingers collected grime from the years of it of being unused. At the bottom of the grate, Chance slipped her hands into the flowing sewer water. She cleaned them vigorously before glancing upwards. She watched Butch take the manhole cover over the hole. Through the darkness, Chance watched him slide down like she did.

"So, Butch," began Chance as they made the journey, "how long have you been Gotham? I didn't realize that I had soldiers prowling the streets as many as I've seen in the last hour."

"Maybe five years, Lieutenant," answered Butch.

His size matched Bane's, though he wasn't intimidating. He was like a big teddy bear, but to the unknowing eye, he could keep unwanted people out of the club he worked for.

"Five years," muttered Chance. "How long have you been stationed at Maroni's bar?"

"Just two, Ma'am. I was told that he's a chump with lots of men on his team above and below the radar, and that although I'd hate working for such a scum-shit, I'd do it for the team."

Chance grinned at him.

"Well, you're a great bouncer," she told him.

"Thanks..." he said quietly.

"And Whiskey from the bar?" she inquired.

"Oh, Whiskey's been there only for two years," he said. "When the owner of the bar vanished and the stand-in was murdered by one of Daggett's men, Whiskey took control of it due to some kind of inheritance law. Apparently Daggett had a brother or someone who had been killed some odd years ago, a Ron Burgundy, and Whiskey's like a relative or whatever. Anyway, Whiskey tended to it, and supposedly his story is that when he saw a rich man waste away a good sum of money to get wicked drunk, and a poor man couldn't order a few pretzels, he just broke."

Chance sympathized.

"Good man," she muttered.

"I found him at his own bar when I went there for a drink after work. He was drinking his own stuff and throwing his money into the drawers. I told him about the League of Shadows when he mentioned something about justice and vengeance. Then when he accepted it, I told him what to do."

"And then he met Bane." Chance finished off the story.

"I think that's how it always ends." Butch commented with a smile. "He's definitely a great teacher. That's how you came to be a female Lieutenant, isn't it?" Chance looked at him. "Well, legend has it that no woman except one had ever held a ranking in the League of Shadows or really has any woman been part of such a clan."

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Chance said with a smile. "When you have enough anger, you pretty much handle everything yourself."

"You felt that anger?"

"No," Chance said gently. "No. I know someone who has, though," she said quietly, thinking of Ace.

Chance and Butch approached the finished barrier, leading to Bane's lair.

"Oh, I haven't been down here in a while." Butch reminisced.

Chance knocked on the door.

There was a sudden bang from behind it. The question was given in a complicated mix of Russian and German. Chance managed to sort through the equation.

"_Who will save this city from what it once was?"_

"_Ra's al Ghul,"_ Chance answered; her tongue rolled frivolously on the 'R'.

The door banged again and it opened. Butch entered first. He was greeted with a manly, friendly '_HEYYYYY!"_ and was hugged by whom Chance assumed were friends he had made in the group. Chance closed the door behind her to see Rocco.

"Thanks," said Chance with a smile.

"Anytime," he told her. "Bane." He indicated the leader downstairs toward the baths.

Chance patted him on the shoulder. She reached for the rope that hung precariously from one of the stair cases. Chance grasped it with her fingers then her legs. She shimmied down the rope quickly, finally releasing it from her fingers to slide down faster by gripping it only by the soles of her shoes. When she neared the bottom, Chance grabbed one of knots in the rope and lowered herself to the ground. She turned to see a massive figure in the dark. He was wearing dark cargo jeans and boots. He couldn't be mistaken.

Chance spoke his name as if one would do to a husband.

"Bane."

He turned. That familiar drop of her stomach revisited when he came out from the shadows. Beads of purified sewer water rolled down his neck, past his rippled chest, along his muscled torso and soaked into the line of his leather belt. Lucky drops...Lucky drops. His eyes, brown as ever, met hers. He breathed in a final sigh.

"Decided to dress warmly this time?" Bane said casually, indicating her clothes.

Chance smiled. Ah, yes. He would have seen her in the cocktail dress earlier; the cameras...

"It was appropriate for the occasion."

Bane scoffed.

"Appropriate?" he said lightly. "Visiting a bar to extract information from a worthless shit isn't appropriate. It's useless." He turned. She eyed his muscles hungrily before she shook it off and continued.

"He's one of the most gossiped criminals, Bane," said Chance, approaching him.

"Lieutenant, it's been three days." Bane said seriously in his low voice. "The armed robbery was a spontaneous plot. Nothing more." He reached for a black T-shirt. Before his fingers could touch the cloth, Chance reached around him to grab it. He sighed, annoyed.

"It was a good place to start," said Chance seriously.

"You were instigating." Bane retorted. "Were it true that he knew anything about everything, he'd have given up details within thirty minutes of your inquiries. Not many can withstand the torture that we use."

"I didn't torture him."

"Oh, so you had a glass of tea and scones while you discussed this matter." Bane remarked sardonically. "Didn't pick that up after our last training session?"

"I had just _grazed_ the subject of torture when you called me to lay off." Chance corrected him. She tossed him his t-shirt. "Sir," she added.

"Feeling brave?" he said, indicating her sassy attitude.

"No. Just irritated."

"And is that a mystery that I have to force you to explain to me, or should we use that ridiculous game 'Twenty Questions'?"

"You sent men to spy on me?" she retaliated, hands on hips.

"If I didn't, you would have no pull up there. You're Chance Bremly, Lieutenant. Half, if not all, the city presumes you dead."

"Yes, I know that. Let's see, what did Whiskey tell me. Ah, yes. Apparently Chance went down the sewers, met someone she couldn't handle, and then he killed her." She gave him a look. "Know anyone?"

"I didn't make that rumor." Bane told her. "And if I did, I would have said that you hadn't made it down the ladder before said killer dealt with you."

"Ha, ha, ha." Chance drawled. "Why the spies, Sir?"

"Some of them weren't even called to be stationed up there." Bane explained. "They simply live in Gotham and happened to cross your path."

"That's quite a few, Sir." Chance said gently.

"Gotham houses quite a few people who have wanted to know who exactly is the 'Lieutenant'. World-wide, you're a feared legend." He looked at her. "Would you like to know why I asked you to return here?"

"I would, yes."

Bane indicated toward the shadows. A woman approached through the darkness. Chance recognized her to be the woman who worked with Bruce Wayne up in Enterprises, but that was the amount of knowledge she had. Chance stared at her.

"What is this?" Chance inquired the woman with a finger.

"_This_"—Chance heard Bane's disapproval—"is Miranda Tate. Her real name is Talia al Ghul. She's Ra's al Ghul's daughter." And with a more mild tone, "And an old friend."

Talia looked at Chance in a way that would be for a new co-worker to meet one that had left the premises to return to have a job there again. It wasn't spiteful. Just different.

"Talia..." Chance muttered, slightly embarrassed at her rudeness before. She bowed her head lightly.

Talia was beautiful. Brown hair, brown eyes, fair-skinned, petite. She spoke with an accent.

Chance glanced at Bane uncertainly. The way he was looking at Talia made her think that 'old friend' didn't match what they might have been. Chance clicked her tongue uncomfortably.

"Why are you here?" asked Chance politely.

"Overseeing the operation," answered Talia.

"Strange." Chance crossed her arms. "I thought I was doing that."

Bane turned to Talia.

"I never told Chance about your true identity to protect the foundation. I had to know if I could trust her. Which I do. There are men stationed up in Gotham that know of Chance's title, and they do what she asks without hesitation."

"Where are they located?" asked Talia curiously.

"Fire departments, police stations...restaurants." Bane glanced at Chance. "They swarm Gotham."

Chance was beginning to grow irritated.

"If I'm not needed," she said, "I can leave."

Bane turned to her.

"The point of your arrival isn't to visit. You have recruits to train." He indicated outside.

Chance licked the corner of her mouth. She nodded and turned to leave.

"Chance."

Talia called her name. Chance turned.

"I didn't know you in your other life," said Talia gently. "But you would do well to keep your attitude in check."

"I shall practice my curtsy," remarked Chance shrewdly before disappearing out of the room.


	23. Who is She?

The City in Pieces

Chapter Twenty-Three: Who is She?

Talia al Ghul's remark sent angry shivers down Chance's back. Venomously, she trained the recruits that day a lot more vigorously than what she would have done had she been calm and collected. But Talia had ran straight through her, worse than what Bane had ever done. When Bane entered the training room, he had found five men on the ground, bleeding. Three sustained broken bones; the other two were coughing up blood. Chance was no where in the room. Bane ordered six physicians off the floor to tend to the recruits' wounds then demanded Chance's whereabouts. When Bane was directed to Chance's bedroom, he opened the door to find it pitched into darkness.

"Lieutenant." Bane said darkly.

Silence. He sighed through his mask.

"No use in hiding. I can smell you from here."

A sudden whoosh of air passed his face; Bane held his hand out in front of his face to catch a flying fist mid-air. Chance's small _oomph_ confirmed that it was her. Still holding her balled fist, he turned on the light. When the light hit them both, Chance was glaring at him.

"I should do what you've done to your recruits." Bane said dangerously.

"They're soldiers, not pets," remarked Chance in a dark voice. "_Sir._" Chance spat the word. Bane pulled her hand towards him so that her body pressed against his. She continued to glower at him, despite the obvious sign in her face that showed Bane that although her blood boiled angrily, it heated for a different reason. He shook his head.

"Confess, Chance." His voice dropped. "I know you're not irritated about your recruits."

"It's never them." Chance said. "They don't anger me. Not like you. Or _her._"

"_She_ is an old friend of mine."

"Oh, yeah," said Chance aggressively, "the way you look at her clearly tells me that. Let me go."

"No. You are assuming again that you know the extent of the relationship." A moment. He chuckled. "You are...jealous."

"As if..." Chance retorted.

"'As if'?" Bane remarked, clearly amused. "How like a woman." He released her. "Chance, you left your recruits beaten and broken on the floor. I don't imagine that they understood exactly why their third day of training was so harsh. Even I made sure that you were given proper care once I did the number." Bane shook his head. "We are not just an army, remember? We all want the same thing. There's no call for treating your men like this."

Chance sat on the bed.

"Are you listening?" said Bane irritably.

"All ears." Chance muttered.

Bane clicked his tongue from behind his mask. He strode toward her, stood in front of her. Chance glanced up at him. Before she met his eyes, he back-handed Chance across her left cheek in a swift movement; she hit the mattress. Chance grunted out of shock. Bane leaned forward to hove over her lain body. He was in her face.

"Your attitude is slowly trying my patience."

"That's not what you mean," said Chance, rubbing her cheek. "Say what you mean."

A pause.

"You're pissing me off," Bane told her.

Below him, Chance's stomach heated.

"Am I?" she whispered.

"What's more aggravating is that you know it." Bane said.

A pause.

"What is she to you?"

"An associate." Bane told her. He pushed off the mattress to rise to his feet. "Nothing more." Another pause. "I know your reasoning for sudden distrust, Chance. It's not a wonder to me why you disrespected her." He tapped the underside of her chin. "Just be sure that you do not succumb to your temptation to kill her over some misplaced sense of life and purpose."

He started to walk away.

"Bane."

He turned.

"How _do_ you know her?" said Chance curiously.

"Once, I was her protector in Hell on Earth. I saved her life, then she saved mine. Her father was my mentor." Bane explained summarily. "Now is not the time to go any further than that."

Chance bit her lip.

"I know that look." Bane said, walking toward her. "Still don't believe me. Do you?"

"The way you look at her..."

"If I saved you from a fate worse than death," said Bane clearly, "you would be looking at me differently as well."

"I do." Chance said gently, sliding to the edge of the bed. "You stopped that man from raping me."

Bane stared at her.

"To you, that's a fate worse than death?"

"The worst." Chance said, rising to her feet to stand right in front of him. "There is nothing more cruel on Earth than a person who thinks they are entitled to what they can't have. Especially by force. And to live through it is torture in itself."

Bane nodded.

"I know." Another pause. "Sleep here tonight. Tomorrow, you return to the tavern."


	24. A Roaring Infection

The City in Pieces

Chapter Twenty-Four: A Roaring Infection

Chance couldn't go to sleep, though. Not when images were fading in and out of her mind of a young Talia and Bane falling desperately in l—

Chance sat up, red-faced and angry, grabbed a nearby oil lamp from the edge of her bed side table and threw it across the room. The glass shattered against the stone wall; the lit fuse blew angrily into a fire, lighting the room in an orange light. Chance screamed furiously, out of frustration and how the one move of rage she had committed was setting her bedroom ablaze. The door opened from the left and two men rushed inside to put it out with a stolen fire extinguisher. Although they had just saved her possessions and possibly her life, Chance took several unknown objects off her bed side table and wielded them at the intruders.

"Out! Get out of this fucking room? Are you fucking house keepers? OUT!" Chance roared.

The two members of the League of Shadows shielded their faces from the projectiles, running just as quickly out of the room as they had done so to get inside to help. They cried out exasperated retorts, but Chance rose to her feet and batted them away. Chance, in only her robe tied closed, grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut; it hit the frame so hard that it bounced off and hit the wall even louder. Chance took the door by its hinges and threw it against the frame over and over again. Feeling as if this wasn't helping her at all, she slammed it shut all the way and then strode back to her bed.

Chance was, at this point, so jealous that even then she believed that Bane was somewhere with Talia. She didn't know how long he had been talking to her before he introduced them. As she started to believe that he had been seeing her on the side, Chance's anger started to build. Nothing like a solid betrayal to end things.

Chance heard the door open. She glanced at her wrists to see them glow red. Chance frowned.

"Out..." she whispered, breathing heavily. Chance smelled the air: fire, ash, and burnt wood.

"I see," said Bane from the door way, "that you've taken the liberty of destroying that atrocious dresser of yours."

"Out, I said..." Chance said in a louder voice.

"Rocco and Butch tell me," he continued, "that you lit this room on fire. And upon assistance, you threw your knives at them."

Chance's stomach rolled viciously. She balled her fists.

"Bane, I don't have the patience." Her voice shook. "Please. Go."

"I was under the impression that you were having a vivid nightmare." A pause when she said nothing. "Or perhaps," his voice was closer to her than ever, "you still are."

"How long...? When...?" Chance tried to start her line of questioning, but every attempt made her ever more furious. "How could...you..._not_...tell me about _her?_ Was that who you were seeing when I was bed-ridden?" Chance turned to look at him.

He was shirtless, standing at the foot of her bed, watching her. He held her thrown set of knives in his hands. Bane gave her a look. He set the knives on the mattress. A sigh.

"Answer me," said Chance, rising to her feet. "Did you _lie_ to me?"

"Lies help children fall asleep without thinking they're in imminent danger, is that so bad?" said Bane softly. "Lies put on a smile when injured soldiers won't make it through the night, but it eases their wives."

"Stop bullshitting and get to the point." Chance said, mounting anger.

"When I told you that you were the only female in this clan, Chance, I meant every word. You _are_ the only female in _this_ clan. Talia al Ghul is the heir to the League of Shadows, she still is. Ra's al Ghul's death is lamented by everyone, even me. Talia seeks vengeance for her father; the Batman killed him, left him to die. She has our same goal though: to rip apart the social elites and bring them down to our level."

"I want the same thing." Chance said. "That hasn't changed."

Bane sat down beside her on the bed.

"You're softening." Chance said when he said nothing. "A year ago, if I snapped at you, you'd have broken my arms. Now you give me this...look."

"I'm not giving you anything, not even understanding. I told you before what Talia means to me, and it's no fault of mine if you won't accept it."

Chance turned away from him and laid on the bed. She laid on her side so she wouldn't look at him.

"You," said Bane in a deep voice, "have distrust in yourself, so deep that after five years of training, five years of being underneath this city that you can't simply take my word for it."

"You haven't told me everything. How could I?" Chance whispered, staring at the wall in front of her.

"I _have_ kept minor details from you, yes. Am I hiding them?" He set a hand on her shoulder to make her look at him. Chance met his eyes with a glower. He answered himself, "No."

"Then tell me _who_ she is." Chance remarked.

"It means so much to you, a simple story?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you, will you stop lighting things on fire?"

Chance nodded.

"Fine."

Chance turned to him.

"Ra's al Ghul was dating a young woman who had a very high father on a pedestal. He found out about it. Ra's was supposed to go to prison, but the young woman asked to take his place while Ra's was to be free. The king put his daughter in the prison known as Hell on Earth. There, the woman was raped and murdered, but before she was killed, she produced a daughter. I was a prisoner there. I protected her from the prisoners. When there was a prison riot, I helped her escape. Talia was able to go free, but I was forced to stay back. This," he indicated the mask, "is the result of irreparable damage."

Chance nodded.

"When Talia left the prison, she tracked down Ra's al Ghul. According to her, she told him what happened, and he and a few members of the League of Shadows rescued me. I trained with them. Then I was excommunicated."

"Why?" asked Chance gently.

"I'm told that it was because I was a 'monster'."

Chance nodded. "Now Talia's back to finish the job."

"Yes." Bane answered. He sighed. "As for your jealousy, there is no antidote that I can give you that will heal that sort of infection. And no, when you were bed-ridden, I was not sleeping with Talia. Our relationship is platonic."

"What about her? How does she feel?"

"Why does that matter?" Bane said. He caressed the underside of her chin. "Is my word not good enough?"

Chance bent her head down slightly to kiss his opened palm.

"It's good enough. Sir," she added with a smile.


	25. The Sexy Challenge

The City in Pieces

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Sexy Challenge

Bane had left the room for a minute or two. Chance laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The last time someone assured her that an indiscretion wasn't taking place, she had been ratted out to the police, forced upon a promise to herself to bail out Ace and Joker Chance could stare straight up until her eyes would bleed, and the only thing that would hurt was the growing ache in her chest. Chance rubbed her breast bone, attempting knead the pain away. Chance hadn't felt so much fury in years, not like what she had felt just an hour ago. She had always been the cool-headed interrogator. Suddenly, she had lost it.

When Bane returned from the security check-off of the sewer entrance, he closed the door behind him. His eyes glanced at her moving hand along her chest. Chance answered his question for him:

"Chest pain."

"Is that all?" he said. He wasn't being philosophical. He seriously wondered if it was just chest pain or something worse. Perhaps an ulcer or a heart attack. Or perhaps it was just chest pain. Bane cast aside his shirt from his body. Chance's light eyes swarmed his figure as they always did with that glint of amazement. Such strength in a man, and so calm. Chance's throat was dry. She licked her lips slightly, then returned her gaze up at the ceiling.

"What is the point of spying on Joker, really?" said Chance quietly. "If all they want to do is rile the city, why not let them?"

Bane strode toward her and sat beside her on her side of the bed. He sat on the edge. His weight shifted her toward him. Chance's robe fell open from the right side of her naked body. Bane made an amused noise, taking a handful of her robes; he moved the flaps of material from her body to look upon her naked form. Sleek skin, toned and all. Lightly grazed with scars.

Chance wasn't abashed or embarrassed. She welcomed his gaze. Upon his surveillance of her nude form, she felt the sudden ache between her legs. Bane eyed the long scar just below her belly button that stretched side to side. It was one of the darkest ones, paled to a reddened color. It had also been one of the worst injuries that Chance had incurred. A punishment for disobedience and the lack of will power to parry an oncoming strike of a chained hook. Bane merely gazed at it with fond eyes.

"No one can leave a mark like you," she said in a voice that at first didn't sound like her own. Bane met her eyes.

"One of the few lessons you've never understood was showing control when temptation presented itself. Whether it's food or something much more..." He searched for a word, then said in a distant voice, "Appetizing..." Chance smirked. "Control is also part of the qualities, Chance."

"I'm in control." Chance said.

"Really?" said Bane skeptically. He indicated her naked body.

Chance smiled. She sat up. The rest of her robe fell from her shoulders. She had smooth skin, curvy breasts. Such a strong stomach for a woman who had 'no control'. Chance scooted toward him. He stayed still as she sat behind him, her legs setting on either side of his on the edge of the bed. Chance's arms wrapped around his hard waist. Beneath her caressing fingers, she felt his stomach clench. Chance set the right side of her face against his back. Her breasts grazed the underside of the back of his strong shoulder blades.

"How about we play a little game?" she said against his skin.

"Is this supposed to prove a point?" he told her gently.

"If it does, I win." Chance told him. "And if it doesn't, I still win."

"You're toying with me." Bane's voice deepened.

"So?" Chance retorted.

He sighed.

"All right."

"Self-control. Who ever lasts the longest," said Chance seductively, "without climaxing..." Her fingers dropped from his stomach to the waist line of his jeans, "Wins..." she finished.

"And how does this end with you on the winning team either way?"

Chance sighed.

"It doesn't matter." She bit her lip. "If I do win, or if I lose, I'll still get what I want in the end."

"Which is...?"

Chance slid out from behind him to sit beside him. He looked at her. Chance smirked.

"I love to hear you moan my name."

Bane set his hand around her neck and squeezed. She winced; the pressure made her pull her neck back to sustain the pain. Her fingers grasped the sheets beneath her when he did it. She made a noise. His other hand set her arm behind her back; he forced her to look at him.

"I would agree with you if I felt the same."

"What's that...ah..." He pulled her arm back further. "What's that supposed to mean?"

His voice deepened.

"I'd rather you scream mine."


	26. In Bed With a Torturer

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay on this chapter. I couldn't get in the mood for one of these scenes. I found the book Dark Knight Rises and it completely tells the movie outline, so yay! Anyway, here is the piece you've been waiting for! :D Enjoy reading; I enjoyed writing it.

The City in Pieces

Chapter Twenty-Six: In Bed With a Torturer

Many a time when Chance was sleeping in the tavern by herself in those three days she lasted up there in Gotham, she longed a second time with Bane. She only realized the intensity between them when she had met Maroni after all these years. Chance found it enticing to be in Bane's presence again, and although something inside her always feared him—she knew what he was capable of doing—it aroused the dangerous side of her, and perhaps he was trying to mold her into a killing machine.

His bone-breaking, lacerating, and scarring to Chance's body were lessons she had to remember. Disobedience wasn't an honored act, even if someone disagreed. She'd learn them eventually, though despite how many times he would hit her, he never raised his voice. And once he had learned that her vanity was not in appearance, but her intellect, he knew how to manipulate her mind; nothing pissed off Chance more than insulting her by calling her incompetent.

Bane set Chance on the bed as one would after marrying a bride. He was amazed with just how confident she was in her body; his eyes caressed her body in admiration. His own satisfaction was derived from his long years of training a leader who was obsessed over taking Gotham as her palace—calculating, but not a true fighter—and formed an obedient second-in-command, lustful, full of rage, seductive, intelligent, and all the more dangerous to those who didn't know what pain was. His dark, penetrating eyes did their part. She seemed to freeze under his gaze.

"Admiring your work, Boss?" said Chance in a silky voice.

Bane leaned forward, setting a hand on her strong stomach. His fingertips felt the sudden clench. He could kill her if he smashed the heel of his palm, hard enough into her ribs. She'd hemorrhage long enough to gasp, then her stomach would be pulverized, spilling out onto the mattress. Chance's eyes glanced at his fingers. Bane watched her lips purse slightly; her teeth nibbled her bottom lip.

Chance's hands formed at the sheets on either side of her body. Her fingers entangled in the sheets. Bane glanced at her fingernails scratching the bedding. Chance met his eyes. She lifted her head to kiss his cheek. The metal around his cranium touched her cheek. Cold.

Chance laid her head back down.

"I could make another one for you." Chance said gently, indicating his mask. "After all these years, I'd improved as an engineer." A smile. "It'd be easy."

"This is easy?" said Bane.

"Eas_ier_..." Chance set a hand on his fingers along her belly. "Than this..."

Chance laid straight on the bed. She restrained herself from the god-awful temptation to rip the remainder of her commander's clothes from his body and ride him like a stallion. The image of said temptation passed her mind and she smirked. Bane slid his hand down to her lower belly. He felt the slight roughness of the long scarring along her mid-section. Chance's tongue darted out of her mouth surreptitiously, an involuntary action that she had when she was aroused. Bane's slight touch was maddening, and although she desired the S&M treatment he had given her the last time, something was more torturous than that. It was this...

Chance's stomach burned as his fingers glided along her pelvis. A burn crept from her feet and crawled up her legs; massive urges had to restrained as urgency pooled just above her burning sex. She felt the familiar wetness between her legs. Bane watched her eyes close. He glanced at her smooth legs. They parted slightly.

Chance's hand slid off her stomach and grabbed the sheets. She was trying to control herself.

Bane caressed her inner thigh. His thumb lightly pressed against the naked mound. She bit her bottom lip harder. Bane watched her expression as pleasure crept onto her face; a small smile. Her eyes squinted. He could feel heat pulsing from her. For what it was worth, he admitted that she hid what she was feeling rather well. Though he didn't know just how hot she was.

Bane sat beside her on the bed. Chance watched him position himself in front of her spread legs. He grabbed her legs and pulled; she slid across the bed easily as if she were lying on air. Bane was sitting on his knees; he had her lower body right in front of him. Chance stared at him.

"What are you planning?" she said, suddenly hoarse.

Bane tapped his fingers on her inner thighs.

"Do you think I'm going to tell you what I'm thinking?"

Chance frowned.

"I thought this game was to see who would lose first..." Chance said quietly.

"It is. However," he pressed his hand between her legs, making her jolt, "I think I'm in charge. What do you think? Do you feel in charge?"

"I don't think it really matters...to me..." said Chance; she uttered a small moan as his fingers teased. Chance's immediate reflex out of pleasure was to close her legs; though that went out the window, due to Bane's massive size. Even if she did, Bane's other hand kept one of her legs at bay.

The burning inside of her grew more intense. He slid a finger along the folds of her skin. Chance's back arched. Her mouth fell open inadvertently, her fingers suddenly clawed the blanket beneath her. She was hot with arousal; Bane smirked beneath his mask. He knew she was all the more attracted to him, but my god, the slightest touch sent her shivering in lust

"Tell me," said Bane, "which do you prefer?" He rubbed his fingers along her heated muscle, making her thighs clench in obvious heat.

"Compared to what?" she breathed. Another moan left her mouth, one that was breathless.

"Which torture is better for you?" Bane asked her, point blank. "I don't understand that. It's sick."

"Sick, Bane?" she chuckled. Chance raised herself off the bed to wrap her hands around Bane's neck. He didn't budge at the extra weight. He could handle it.

"Aren't you being hypocritical, Sir?" she said.

Her straightening back pushed her pelvis into his waist. He sighed._ That goddamn waist..._

Her hips seemed to find him. Chance gave him a smile that seemed to appear out of character.

"Don't tell me that you're not getting off on this," Chance said softly. "With me, you have all the power at your fingertips." Chance felt his hands wrap around her waist. "You're like god. But you can't feel pain." Chance tapped her knuckles on the side of his metal mask. "But I can." She moved her back; her pelvis danced against his hidden erection.

"I would actually enjoy seeing you deliver some justice to the social elite up in their penthouses..." Chance breathed. "I imagine it's quite different when I'm not your victim." He grabbed her waist to pull her against his growing erection. "Then again," she said, licking her bottom lip when she felt his arousal beneath her naked body, "I practically encourage it."

Bane sighed. Chance's seduction was very powerful. It made sense to him how she could be romantically involved with those goons in the past. She was charming, but her sexual interests seem to vary from the light side of sensuous foreplay to the hardcore mass of bondage: any goon, any boss, any hero—no one could be disappointed with her. Bane supposed that the only person she actually was never drawn to was Ace's beau, the Joker.

Bane's fingers made light, red marks along the nape of his neck, watching his face harden at the pressure against his muscles.

"I've seen you kill before," she whispered against his neck. "And there's nothing like it." She spoke of murder in voice of loving caress. He listened to her words. His hand climbed her waist to cup one of her perky breasts. From this, she sighed.

"You have a deadly outlook for murder, Chance." Bane said.

"I don't crave murder," she said. Her fingers tightened around his muscles.

"You're a torturer." Bane told her. She chuckled wickedly.

"Only of the body," she said.

Chance lowered her head to his neck, opened her mouth, and bit him.

Bane closed his eyes from the sudden pressure, though he felt no pain, due to the medication he was breathing. Chance grinned against the extrusion of blood. He grunted either way, then pushed her away from him. She fell back against the mattress, bouncing slightly at the exercised force. He propped her legs open.

"Admit it," she said as he unbuttoned his jeans, "you like it too."

"I simply give back what you're giving me."

"If I did the same, you realize that you'd be dead." Chance retorted with a smirk.

Bane hovered over her.

"The fact that you endure this because you relish it is odd enough," Bane told her.

Chance passed two fingers across her mouth to wipe away his blood.

"One day I told you that this story was rated Mature. Considered it to be some sort of swearing thing?" Chance said amused. "Though I have to admit, the whole torture fetish is weird," she confessed. Then smirked. "But we're all going to Hell anyway."

Bane pulled his pants off.

"You're too calm." Chance said gently. He glanced at her. "If I make you angry, will you hit me?"

"I wouldn't push that far." Bane said. His voice was alarming.

Chance clicked her tongue.

"Mm, a threat." She raised her head; her tongue passed along his wounded neck. He grasped her throat and pushed her lightly. "You like it, too...don't you?"

"I'm not a stranger to pain." Bane told her.

Chance slid out from beneath him and sat up. He looked at her. She gestured serenely that he lie down. Curious to know what the Hell was going through her mind, he did as she asked. Chance boarded his body. He was naked in front of her. Chance's legs pressed the outer limits of his own; her fingers found the muscles along his stomach, her favorite spot. Her lips lapped up the light blood from his neck, what little she had drawn from him. Bane was fascinated with her, not because she thought of pain as a different expression of intense desire, or the fact that if he hit her, she seemed to love it ever more. She was so adept with him that Chance was fearful to push him too far, but just close enough to the edge that it teetered the boat.

Her obsession over his body was particularly amusing to him. While other girls seemed to be terrified by his massive body, she only seemed astonished. The mere glimpse of skin while wearing a black t-shirt seemed to drive her up a manic wall. Which could explain why she felt so furious when Talia had been with him in the lair after he had bathed, bare-chested.

Chance descended. She left hot kisses down his chest. Chance felt his gut retract when her soft lips caressed the creases of his abdomen. Her fingers slipped between their bodies to lightly graze his growing erection. To Bane's surprise and immediate pleasure, Chance's mouth replaced her fingers along his now throbbing member.

Bane uttered a low moan. He felt Chance's lips widen in a devilish smirk. He watched her head bob up and down slowly. A torturer of the body...No fucking shit...But he realized shortly after that they were still playing her game. He reached for her hair, grabbed a handful, and pulled her up. Chance squealed.

"You're not winning your game like that." Bane growled. Chance licked her lips then straddled his waist. "You're a clever minx, Chance, but not subtle."

Chance shrugged.

She raised her body slightly, hovering over his erection with anticipation. Chance lowered herself, smoothing him inside of her, and although she had tried to make it easy as she could, she still made a wanton moan as she encased him within clenching walls. Bane's hands ceased her thighs, keeping her still as he buckled under her legs. Chance moaned his name. She leaned forward over his stomach as he thrust inside her. Bane heard her moans become breathless. He felt his own body purging as her walls clenched devastatingly.

"Oh, shit..." she gasped, closing her eyes.

"Don't hold back," he told her hoarsely.

"That's what I'm trying to do," she breathed. Though despite her attempts, her control to refuse an orgasm was not as strong as she thought. His force was driving her to a cliff. His deep voice only seemed to nudge her with a stick, beckoning Chance to simply jump off the precipice. And she was close.

Bane could feel it too. Her moans became louder. Her position on top of him didn't give her any control. He was stronger than her, more endurable. And, by all means, more controlled. He admittedly wasn't a dormant man, though: he could feel his own climax as she rode him gallantly. Chance's hands fell to his stomach, trying to find some strength in her, but to no avail, it only made it feel so much better.

"Say it." Bane said darkly.

"Fuck you," Chance hissed.

"Fuck me?" he said. Bane gripped her legs and pushed himself into her with an elevated force.

Apparently, the word he was searching for was 'harder', and he did it to make a point. Chance screamed his name as he loved to her voice edgy and loud when she climaxed. Her orgasm, the strongest she had ever felt, forced her walls to clench so tightly that Bane moaned her name as well. Her fingernails along his stomach stabbed him viciously against her orgasm.

Then the two of them were dormant.

Chance rolled off him. The remnants of her orgasm washed over her. Her legs were vibrating slightly. Bane reached over to take her face in his hand; she was startled by the sudden reproach. She saw something dangerous in his eyes; it wasn't physically alluring to her. In fact, it frightened her. She shuddered.

"I should clarify something to you."

Chance stared at him.

"If you ever say '_fuck you'_ to me again, I will personally make sure that the real Chance Bremly ceases to exist." A pause. "Understood?"

Chance nodded.

"Yes..."

He released her.

"Sleep. You have a big day ahead of you."

Chance nodded. She laid on her side, staring at the wall.

"And Lieutenant..."

"Sir?"

"I will take you up on that offer."

"What offer, Sir?"

"Make another mask."

Chance smiled then closed her eyes.

"As you wish, Sir."


	27. Earning Respect

The City in Pieces

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Earning Respect

Chance's engineering skills had been revved when she had been working on improving the man-made construction under the sewers. There was no hired construction crew just yet; Bane was still gathering financial funding from various parts of Europe. Chance, in respect for her lover, made connections with intricate wires, metals, and mercury to make machines that would help the members of the League of Shadows work less harder, but efficiently still. Although Bane viewed the League as helpful, though expendable alliances, Chance felt as if they were a growing family.

Her work space was in a separate tunnel of the sewers. It was relatively new. Because the living space in cells were not comfortable as quarters, Chance leaked furniture from the room over the tavern to a large chamber where her men could rest, fuck around like play cards or whatever, during down time. Chance also had Whiskey from the tavern bring some of his supplies down to the known 'barracks', provided that the members would drink when they weren't under Bane's orders.

Because of her respect for them and a personal fond for the loyal soldiers, Chance earned favoritism around the corridors. Not only was she well-respected around Gotham, apparently, according to Whiskey, she was world-wide adored by the criminal underworld as the masked man's faithful lieutenant. Though only Gotham's League knew that the two leaders were sleeping together.

Chance did as she had suggested for Bane. Chance collected rubber synthetic instead of metal; instead of pipes, she used tubes. Chance worked on the mask at an inventor's table. Crude instruments were strewn along the surface. One would actually find some of the utensils lying about in a surgeon's ER.

Chance's long experience injuries gave her a lot of practice to surgically heal herself. Due to the will to endure her pain by become sexually aroused by it, the agony would numb, and she would become only horny in the time it took for her to get stitches.

Chance had offered to create another mask for Bane for two reasons. One was to get him to trust her, if ever he doubted her. The second reason was that whenever she went to kiss his cheek, the metal around his head chilled her.

"You're quite a loyal woman, aren't you?"

Chance's spine tingled irritably. Talia.

"I am," said Chance, feeling grumpy. She continued to work as Talia spoke.

"Did he employ you? Is that how you met him?" she asked. Talia had an exotic accent; it was European, though from which part, Chance didn't know.

"Our initial introduction doesn't really matter today." Chance muttered. Her eyes still stared down at the mask in full concentration. "But if you must know." A pause. "I blew up the East Wall, searching for a certain alligator in the sewer. I was put in a body cast. Then he recruited me."

"Bane told me that you were intending to 'rule' Gotham."

Chance glanced up, annoyed. She looked at Talia.

"It sounds ridiculous if you say it like that." Chance said scornfully.

"It is. Trying to conquer a city that's well beyond saving...It's a foolish ambition."

"Not when you're the one getting the goods," said Chance, recollecting her 'foolish' ambition. "As I recall, the person who owns Gotham 'rules' Gotham. The way I was heading, this whole fucking town would be mine, and I'd be living in a penthouse instead of some rich neck-tie," she snapped, referring to Gotham's prince Bruce Wayne. "You're a member of the board of directors of Wayne Enterprises. Wealthy, well-off." Chance gave Talia a look. "Why in the hell would you want to return to the bowels of Gotham?"

"I don't want wealth."

"Then send your money to those who need it." Chance responded apathetically. "Goodness knows, they do."

Talia stared at Chance.

"What exactly do you think you're going to get from this?" she said to Chance, indicating the League of Shadows as a whole.

"Security wages." Chance retorted sarcastically. "It gives me purpose."

"I understand that you and this man upstairs, the Joker, have had history?" asked Talia to change the subject.

"Joker and I worked together," said Chance, "but not directly."

"His girl's got history with you, doesn't she?"

"Ace and I are old friends." Chance remarked vaguely.

"And you hate her."

"I never hated Ace." Chance sighed. "And I don't now. I want to make sure that she and Joker don't put Gotham in a choke hold before you and Bane avenge Ra's al Ghul." Chance returned to working on the mask, distracted by Talia.

"So you're in for the thrill?" questioned Talia.

Chance was growing impatient. Talia was trying to sort through bullshit, but there was none.

"Point blank?" began Chance irritably. "I did this to avoid death. Now I do it because I enjoy it. Wreaking vengeance on the bastards who deserve it: it seems a great purpose in life. I do it, too, because I have a cold blood lust. Recently, I've been on a verge of torture. It does me well to enjoy it." Chance smirked then added, "Goodness knows it makes the sex incredible."

Chance looked at Talia.

They exchanged glances.

"Talia," said Chance. "I know you're the leader and all, and granted, I should pay more respect for you, but you haven't it earned it from me. You see these men around? They like me. They respect me. I guarantee you that half of them fear me. And it's fine. The moment something should harm me, they would fly in front of me as a human shield. It's for their purpose.

"The moment you earn my respect," said Chance gently, "_I_ will be the idiot that decides to spare you from a bullet." Then tenderly, as she rose to deliver the mask, "Just as I am willing to spare Bane any pain than he must endure..."


	28. All Part of the Plan

Author's Note: All right, here is like the BAM part of the story. I just want to alert my readers that if you haven't seen the Dark Knight Rises, this major SPOILER ALERT because you're about to get the whole detail on Bane's plan. Anywho, enjoy my chapter. This helped me clear my head; Bane's pretty calculating! :D

The City in Pieces

Chapter Twenty-Eight: All Part of the Plan

"Whatever Joker is planning, it isn't interrupting our plans." Bane told Chance as he snapped on Chance's made mask. He turned to her. "The plan requires air travel, though." He led her to the ad hoc command center that Chance had made (the new addition to the lair).

Bane handed Chance a file folder, it was stacked with papers. Chance opened it up when he gestured at it; she scanned them momentarily then turned to him.

"Dr. Pavel?" inquired Chance.

"Yes, a nuclear physicist." Bane clarified. "We need to arrange a few things with him, but the communication can't be done on phone or computer. I have to fly to Eastern Europe."

Chance stared at him.

"What I am about to tell you needs to stay quiet." Bane said.

Chance nodded. Bane sighed. He held up a blue print.

"This is a nuclear hydrator, designed to provide free air and water into the atmosphere if it so used. It's supposed to the clean the filth that rages through these sewers, to allow better life in Gotham. Talia, or otherwise known as Miranda Tate," he added, "is trying to get this in use at Wayne Enterprises; however, Bruce Wayne needs to be the one to authorize it in order to get it to be functioned underneath it." Bane indicated one of the tunnels with a hand. "One of those tunnels is located just beneath Applied Sciences of Wayne Tower."

"Why Wayne Tower?" questioned Chance, listening to Bane's explanation.

"Applied Sciences has the equipment we need in order to continue to let the fire rise."

Chance nodded.

"In order to have the nuclear hydrator working, it needs to be authorized by three of the members of the board, though it doesn't matter which three. Talia has been climbing the ranks, but she hasn't reached the director of Wayne Enterprises, which makes her eligible to authorize the machine."

"Why do you need Pavel?" asked Chance curiously

"He is the designer of this," he indicated the blue print. "And only he can work on it."

"You're going to use this to destroy Gotham?" said Chance skeptically.

"No, he has to diffuse it properly, take out the incapacitator, and the end result will make it a nuclear bomb."

Chance stared at him.

"I thought you were going to rip Gotham bit by bit."

Bane shook his head.

"The city thrives on the rich elite; we're bringing those top men to our level. After they despair and drench themselves in less hope, every bit of faith crushed from their bodies, then Gotham will cease to exist." Bane gave Chance a calculating gaze. "That _is_ what you want, isn't it?"

"I was under the impression that Gotham would go mad before they were destroyed, Sir," she admitted.

"No," said Bane. "Apparently your friends up there, the two clowns, have decided to do that for us."

"Why not bring Dr. Pavel here?" asked Chance gently.

"We agreed to meet him cross-country. And if he _does_ decide to stay in his homeland, we'll bring him here anyway."

Chance considered him.

"How will you keep all of the people here? No one can stop _all_ of them from escaping. Despite the many times you've impressed me, Sir, andthere _have been_ many times," she added respectfully, "even you aren't that many a person."

"That's where you come to play." Bane said. He placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her to the table. "There has to be order in the League of Shadows. I intend to keep it as such. But I must leave Gotham with my selected men. You have to run order in the sewers when I'm gone."

"Why not ask Talia?" said Chance coldly.

"Talia's posing as the innocent bystander." Bane informed her. "And even she did command the League of Shadows, she wouldn't be able to be down here at all hours of the day. She has to play her part as well. We all do." He handed her a profile. "His name's Daggett, in charge of Daggett Enterprises, namely a large construction crew company here in the city limits. He's a very wealthy man." Chance gazed at the photo of said wealthy aristocrat: she already could tell that this was going to be a dick. She bit her cheek, thinking it.

"Daggett has long desired to be on top of Wayne Enterprises, though the name Wayne has a lot of financial back-up, comprised in the stock exchange where several Gothamites have sent their paychecks. In the future, Daggett will request a favor, in my name. My name isn't well known, now, surprisingly so, but once we hit Eastern Europe, the world will know. As legend has it, you're known as the Lieutenant who works for a 'masked man'. An easy title to go by.

"Daggett pays small fortunes for favors," Bane continued. "In the future, if he requests our services, you are to require him to use his construction company to place cement along the bridges at each point of Gotham's coast. The men around here are very prone to explosives, they lavish on it," he informed Chance. "The cement that the crew will make will be harmless, but all innocuous subjects can be turned into a weapon."

Chance glanced at him. He apparently had been doing some research when Chance had been busy training recruits for the last few years. All of this spilled out of Bane effortlessly. All this time, he had been waiting for the right time to explain of this. Chance mentally slapped herself for thinking anything less of him. The fucking man was brilliant!

Bane set his around her shoulders and walked her to another print, though it was a diagram.

"The cement that the company uses is composed of a volatile chemical, though it is very harmless when one is using it for simple construction purposes. What would needed to be done is that oil drums would have to be filled with this," he tapped his fingers on the diagram. "And rigged to blow."

He showed Chance to the outline of Gotham City.

"Six bridges leading the outskirts," said Bane, indicating each of them. "Only one of them will remain intact. With the only one, _that_ is how the population will stay in order."

"But, Sir, you can't think that the police will stay quiet," said Chance. "Gordon, up there, is a loyal officer to the law. He's one person, but he's got friends."

"When this hits," said Bane—Behind his mask, he was smiling—"everyone, even the police, won't know what to do. The city is masked with terror now. I imagine that once the Joker has had his fun, the city will be partially mad anyway. And when panic surrounds them, there's only two ways they react. Fighting will only get them killed; and running away...well...there's only so much room they can go."

"And how do you intend to keep the Batman at large during this party?" said Chance incredulously, wondering what sort of answer she would receive. All of his other answers blew her away.

"I thought of that too." Bane said in a conspiring tone.

_Oh, boy..._Chance waited for the master plan of it all.

"And you're the one who needs to carry it out."

Chance stared at him.

"Pardon?"

Bane handed her documents, impending the new release of reconstructive surgery that had been rejuvenated by doctors around the world. Then he handed her the budget, which was higher than what Chance had imagined it to be.

"The DA, Harvey Dent, has gone back to the life of justice," said Bane. "He's long since lost his wife, Grace, and is in therapeutic recovery. You know him well, I imagine." At Chance's confused look, he continued. "Our financial budget is at a very good standing point. Throwing a quarter of million dollars away wouldn't skim our vault. I need Gotham to be built up and be brought down so hard, that hope is easily dashed away for a third time.

"Chance, you need to convince Harvey Dent to be financially backed up by the League of Shadows, but do not tell him that it came from us. The surgery he requires to relieve his scars is very expensive, even for a rich District Attorney. Dent is realizing that he is still a good man, and for the community to trust him again, he cannot have the scars he was given as a crook."

Chance stared at him.

"Bane, you want me to go to Two-Face and _give _him money to help him become a great guy again?" said Chance summarily, though her eyes were wide.

"Once you do," he confirmed, "he, no doubt, will accept it. As a distant lover, he will accept your gift as an apology for leaving him."

"I didn't leave him." Chance said coldly. "He ratted me out, and I gave him what he deserved."

"He won't see it that way," said Bane. "Men are always thinking up ways to make it seem as if their decisions are justified, whether or not the females were right. For all he knows, you were a mistake to leave alive, and you've come back to reconcile." At Chance's angry look, he said, "I'm not asking you to return to his arms. Merely to carry out my plan."

"What do you want me to do after I finance his surgery?"

"Rachel Dawes is a lawyer now," said Bane. "As I hear, she's quite strong in that department. Convince her to help Harvey Dent into becoming Gotham's White Knight."

"Why Dawes?" said Chance questionably.

"It's a personal thing," said Bane.

Chance didn't need it to be explained. Bruce Wayne, by rumor, labored a crush on Rachel Dawes. Chance only knew it a few years back when Bane had informed her of the identity of the real Batman. Bruce Wayne was the caped crusader, though she said nothing afterwards. A boy orphaned when a mugger shot his parents: it was no wonder why Batman hated criminals. Bane learned Bruce's identity when Talia informed him that Bruce once had been trained by Ra's al Ghul himself. That's how Bane knew about Applied Sciences. That's how he knew where to plant the base, under Applied Sciences.

Chance nodded.

"And what about Joker and Ace?" she asked, quite curious to know the reply.

"For your amusement while I'm absent, try to get in well with them. They seem to know the on-goings of Gotham nowadays. We both have been underground for quite some time." He sighed. "Follow their trail. Persuade the Joker to let you in."

"He's changed since I've met him, Bane." Chance said seriously.

"So have you," he added. "And when you meet Ace, since she believes that you're there to kill her, please avoid breaking her bones. That won't be a good way to convince them that you've reformed your leadership ways and want part of their action."

Bane was silent momentarily.

"Well, I believe that is everything."

Chance stared at him. She grinned.

"You are absolutely the most intelligent man that I've ever met," she cooed. "How long have you known about all of this?"

"Before I met you." Bane told her. That was a good way to put it.

"So you intended to make me your second-in-command?" asked Chance curiously.

"Actually, no. I intended to kill you," he said honestly. "Then I had a change of mind. And it must have been the way you put up a fight."

"Why is that?" asked Chance, slightly disturbed at her original intended destiny.

"You're the first person to remain breathing after intruding." Bane said casually.


	29. Goodbye

The City in Pieces

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Goodbye

Chance watched several of the men prepare the long way to Eastern Europe. She imagined that Bane had told her all of this because he was going to the plan tonight. She noticed Rocco suit up, along with the bouncer from Maroni's club and the bartender she had met previously. Chance gestured for the three of them to stand in front of her. They filed in a line beside each other, gazing at the second-in-command with respectful, dutiful eyes. She smiled.

"How many of you are going?"

Whiskey counted silently in his head.

"About seven, Lieutenant," he answered after a pause. "We are willing to do this, as long as the fire rises."

"It will rise," assured Chance with a brilliant smile. "Bane will make sure of it. He isn't a man to be trifled with, even if he's wearing a mask." She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the desk. "I want it made clear that nobody double-crosses him. Should you do it, and you return home, there will be no place that neither of us won't find you." She met their eyes. "Is that understood?"

"We would never do it," said Butch the bouncer. His voice was a low drawl.

"I've encountered traitors alike, young man. I've been told that line several times and have been double-crossed." Chance said, but she wasn't scolding him. "I want it clear that if you die during this task, you die with honor, and as we all promised, we will avenge your deaths."

"It is good to know that you have our support, Ma'am," said Rocco.

"You're a good man," she told Rocco. "All of you are good men." She glanced behind him. "Here comes your commander, better get back in position."

They all bowed their heads. Bane approached her as the men followed the suit of the other five members of the League of Shadows. Bane had on a harness with several pockets, a dark sweater, and black jeans. She gave him a good look-over then looked at him with, admittedly, sadness on her face.

"I have _never_ seen that expression on your face," he said through his mask. He released his harness to raise her chin up with his hand. "That look will age you," he said. "You're more approachable when you are furious."

Chance scoffed. She glanced at the soldiers beside them; they paid no heed. They already knew, as Chance had expected, that their leaders had more than a platonic relationship. Bane followed her gaze then turned to meet hers.

"Come back alive, Bane." Chance said. "That's an order."

"You've no worries about that, Lieutenant." He sighed. "Remember my orders."

"I know them by heart." Then added cockily, crossing her chest with her fingers, "And hope to die."

"Repeat them to me anyway," he said casually.

"Convince Harvey Dent to get the surgery; tell Rachel Dawes to forget about Bruce; track down Joker and Ace and join in on their fight against Gotham; make sure Daggett, Talia, and Stryver stay alive until we need them; protect your needs and serve your interests." Chance listed without a breath.

"Excellent." He reached into his pocket and shoved a small micro-piece in her hand.

"What's this?"

"It's a micro-head-phone set. This can't be traced," he said. "Not even if someone did a cavity search." Then he added, "Though God help the poor fuck who tries to search you." Chance gave him an appreciative smile. He continued. "If plans change, or if you should need me to overhear anything that is relatively urgent, you simply tap it and I will be able to listen in."

"And you?" asked Chance.

"I can't imagine how urgent your assistance will be about 4,000 miles away, but, _yes,_" he agreed, "should I need your assistance, yes. It is a two-way device."

"Why give this to me now?" questioned Chance.

"Because I just received a communique that our dear doctor has become a turncoat."

"Traitor?" inquired Chance derisively.

"It seems so. Apparently the American Task Force has leaked a kidnapping. The League of Shadows that is harbored their in the city apparently was not accurate in locating Pavel. He has escaped. Now we _must_ track him or else he'll leak all of our plans to the government."

"How long will you be gone?" Chance asked softly.

He had started to walk away but she had grabbed his arm to question him.

"I'm not sure. The American Embassy over in Europe is actually clever enough to hide wanted people in witness protection programs. Whatever it takes."

"Give me an estimate."

Bane looked at her carefully.

"Don't tell me that you're having doubts," he said.

"No," she declined the suggestion. "I'm just going to miss you."

He simply looked at her.

He patted her on the cheek.

"The feeling is mutual," he told her. He turned to his men. "Saddle up. We're moving out." He glanced at Chance one more time. Then wordlessly he said his final farewell in his eyes.


	30. Ah Power

The City in Pieces

Chapter Thirty: Ah. Power

Like any devoted servant, Chance watched her master leave the room with saddened eyes. His last words he had spoken had inclined that he would miss her as much she would miss him, but the last gaze he had sent her before he walked out the door with his soldiers seemed more..enduring. She hadn't such a feeling in his eyes, and she was morally stricken by it. Bane was a brute, and the only time he showed affection was when he was about to verbally scorn her or otherwise. Chance, though, closed her eyes to remember the gaze. She didn't know how long it would be until he would see her again. Then the reality hit her. Heading toward Eastern Europe, odds are he was very well-known to be a stone-cold killer, a mercenary. Chance curled away the distraught crawl in her stomach. She hoped against hope that he had plans for them as well.

Chance turned to her blue prints, desks, file cabinets, and beds. This was left to her in his absence. With that fact in mind, a sudden feeling kicked in. Chance grinned widely. Ah, yes. She had felt this several times before. _Power._

Chance clapped her hands together. She strode toward the door, wielded it open. In charge, Chance glanced all around the wide range of the lair, groping the steel barriers with hungry eyes. She put two fingers in her mouth, and a piercing whistle echoed through the corridors on her cue.

There was shouting, orders being strewn about. Chance ducked back inside the room. She could get used to this. Men poured into the room. Without Bane there anymore, they automatically knew who was taking charge of Gotham's bowels as of now. One man in particular stood out from the crowd, stepping away from the line. She narrowed her eyes at the man. Even after these past few years, she recognized his imploring gaze. And surely he knew who she was as well. Chance glanced at the line of men behind him, calculating. According to their serious looks straight ahead, she didn't need them to tell her that they already figured out the issue.

Chance's combat heels were loud clips on the cold stone below. Silence. The man who had stepped out of line was staring straight ahead. His hair was cut short, his dark eyes were shifting. Chance licked her teeth, placing his face. Chance approached him.

"Name yourself, boy," she said seriously in a low tone.

"I'm called Brute."

"No doubt," said Chance chillingly.

The tension in the room confirmed that she indeed recognized him.

This man was the same person that Chance had tortured the night before she had intruded into Bane's lair. Chance lowered her hands to take the man's hands; she saw pin-prick holes in his palms where she had pressed sewing needles through his flesh. The scars were light; but after five years, that was saying something. Chance threw his hands down, disgusted.

"What are you doing here?" she said in a low growling voice. She turned to stand in front of him.

"I'm here for a new path."

"Really?" she said quietly. "What have you been doing all these years?"

"I was a desperate man, Ma'am. I prayed to God that he would give me a path to redemption. Since then, I've searched for it. I was told by a fellow friend..." Some hesitation. "That you can give it to me." A pause. "If you think I'm worthy."

"If it were up to me, I'd throw you down that pit over there." Chance said out of the corner of her mouth." She sighed reluctantly. "Though"—the man glanced at her face as it softened—"I know that the man I work for would frown on it. You have realized it yourself: you have become lost. I can purge you of your loss. But you must face your fears.

"What is it," she asked, standing close to him with her teeth near his ear, "that you truly fear?"

His shoulders hunched as her breath penetrated his neck.

"You."

Chance grinned widely.

"And you believe you faced it by coming here?"

"I don't know what to believe."

Chance stepped back.

"It takes will to believe in something. Not faith nor religion can help you survive the world, not like a world when rapists roam the city streets or when murderers climb walls to kill." She turned to the men in front of her.

"All of you," she said to them, "have been tried before Bane. And you passed his test. Congratulations. Bane has left Gotham to go to Eastern Europe to settle matters with a traitor. I imagine that those who helped Dr. Pavel betray us will not be traveling home to their families. If you betray the League of Shadows, neither will any of you."

Chance signaled for the men to leave except the man who was never part of the formation. He winced when she closed the door behind him hard. A relish of his fear blanketed her senses. _Ah, yes. Sweet, sweet fear._ It was like a precious candy. _Fucking bathe in it, if I wanted to._

"I _am_ sorry about what happened that day," the man confessed.

"No, you're not." Chance said gently. "But you will be."

"I was told that I could get a second opportunity," he said cowered.

"Bane's ruling, not mine." Chance said flatly. "And don't flinch when you're around me. Makes you look like schmuck." She strode around him. "You seem to underestimate me as you did before."

"I said that I'm afraid of you. I can...be...part of..." he stammered and trailed off when she chuckled, walking away from him as if he said nothing important. _Which he didn't._ Chance hit the wall behind her, indicating the blue prints.

"You're worthy enough to rape," she insulted him. "What makes you worthy enough to kill?"

"I was told it's vengeance."

Chance stared at him in dislike.

"And who could you have possibly lost?"

"_Everyone."_

His voice was just a whisper.

Chance stared at him unblinkingly.

"Specify, boy." Chance said, though her voice was slightly less edgy.

"I can't."

"If you can't speak the truth, you have no business here." Chance said in a bored voice. She had met many like this who had simply walked away. "If you truly want redemption, you must come clean. Now speak."

"I raped five women," the man's voice broke as he said it. Tears fell from his eyes immediately.

"If you feel so crestfallen, why did you do it?" Chance said coldly, watching the man fall apart in front of her.

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall behind her.

He sniffled and shook his head.

"Speak." Chance ordered.

"They're my family...my family..." he hissed. He wiped away his tears hurriedly.

"I don't condone rapists." Chance warned him. "Why did you do it? Why did you rape those women?"

"Weakness."

"You violated your family out of weakness?"

"It's not easy like that!" he roared out of spite.

Chance rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the wall.

"_Then say it like it is!"_ she demanded, getting in his face. "Why did you do it?"

"Drugs. I was drugged by others. I was told to do it. I was told they were wanton prostitutes. I didn't know who they were...until the drugs wore off..." He crashed to his knees. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" he shook his head, grabbing his face in his hands pitifully, sobbing. "I didn't know...I didn't know..."

"Were you drugged that night you saw me?" Chance whispered, lowering to her knees.

"I remember...I remember...I was talked into doing it...I'm so, so sorry..." he cried softly. "I didn't know what—what was going on until I was there in front of...you. They told me that you were a bad person who deserved it. They told me you deserved it..."

Chance's face softened to sympathy. She set a hand under his chin and raised it so that his soaked, moist eyes met her piercing blue ones.

"Were they the ones who drugged you to hurt your family?" she said tenderly.

"...Yes...yes...I can't take it back. Oh, and they thought I meant it. Their screams...their cries for me to stop..."

Chance closed her eyes achily. She put a hand on his mouth to stop him from describing his cruel acts.

"Stop." Chance said. "Stop."

"_I'm sorry..._" the man pleaded, raising his hand to grab her shoulders. "I'm. So...sorry..."

Chance sighed. She rose to her feet.

"You know grief and despair. And you lived your life in it." Chance took his hand; he rose to his feet less gracefully than she did. "I _can_ offer you a new path. You can avenge your inflicted acts that you were forced to do. Avenge your family by destroying the men who made you do it." Chance smiled when his eyes resurfaced hope. "I can offer you the path."

"Oh," the man said in growing happiness. "Oh, thank you."

Chance tipped his chin lightly.

"I can train you."

The man nodded cheerfully.

"On your way," she indicated the door.

"Yes, Ma'am."

Chance watched his retreating back. She bit the inside of her cheek. Talia entered the room, glancing pass her as she saw the retreating former rapist leave the chamber with a bounce in his step. Talia and Chance exchanged mutual looks of saturated dislike.

"Look," began Talia, "we're not too different. Bane has told you everything about me. I know everything about you. You truly are one of a kind. I never thought he'd ever come to a mutual fondness with anyone, less than a man." She gave an effort smile. "You're in charge for now. Bane's counting on you."

"He always has," said Chance mildly. "He always can. Always will."

Talia nodded.

"I know that you and he share a romantic love."

"I wonder what love _isn't_ romantic."

"One that's based on sex," said Talia matter-of-factly.

"Sounds like you know of it."

"I know that you do."

Chance frowned at her for the cheap shot.

"I never accoutred that lifestyle," Chance said tonelessly. "When it was proposed to me, I declined."

Talia sighed.

"We can keep trying to best each other or we can start working together." Talia remarked. "Quite frankly, _lieutenant, _I'm getting exhausted trying to come up with good comebacks."

Chance tapped her fingers on the desk.

"Bane," began Chance, quietly agreeing with Talia, "wants me to arrange a set-up between Harvey and Rachel Dawes."

"Yes, I know." Talia supported. "He said that he had confidence in you. He's a very intelligent man: if he didn't think you could do it, he'd never ask."

"Then he must really think that you'll be in charge of Wayne Enterprises by the time we need you in place." Chance retorted.

"I have my confidences that I will." Talia told her. She indicated the door. "That man who was in here. You chose your second-in-command?"

"No. He's a newly admitted recruit."

"His story?"

"Raped five of his family members during a junkie episode of his life. He remembered me."

"You know that man?"

"In a way." Chance grinned at Talia. "I sort of tortured him in a dark alley."

"Aren't you sweet..." Talia remarked. "Get some rest, dear. You'll have to start tomorrow morning."


	31. Reforming Two Face

The City in Pieces

Chapter Thirty-One: Reforming Two-Face

The last time Chance had met Harvey, it had been when he was Two-Face. His scarring had been the result of a trial gone wrong with Sal Maroni throwing acid in his face. Two-Face had been working on his own when Chance and Ace became partners. But after a plan to infiltrate the Second National Gotham Bank had gone awry, Chance and Ace broke their partnership the first time on agreement that the other couldn't stand the other's stategies. While Ace had united with Joker when she had made a home on the fair grounds of an amusement park, Chance met Two-Face, and they had formed a partnership. Two-Face and Chance had complemented each other at first, but into the third year of forming that alliance, Chance grew wary of his constant whip-lash and coin-flipping that she had pondered leaving. That was when Harvey and Chance and Two-face and Joker formed a foursome alliance. Though Chance's feelings toward the ground hit the ground and she eventually grew tired of arguing with Harvey, dealing with Joker's funnies and pranks, and Ace's blood thirsty habits.

Chance's anger had revealed itself when she had found out that Harvey had been leaking their whereabouts and crimes to Grace, an ex-housewife who had been with him up until he left _her. _Chance, who had fallen in love with him, was devastated, and after she broke him out of Arkham the first time, Chance deserted.

Now Bane's request had her tracking him down at a vacationed winter home for therapy in the rich neighborhood. She simply walked through the streets, and even though her face was out in the open, nobody paid attention to her because anybody who had _this_ much money would be looking straight ahead, not a worry in the world. Chance scoffed at their ignorance. The rich were getting richer. And Bruce Wayne, Batman by night, had an issue with this? He was stoked with gold; the man's ass was probably valued at three million dollars. But Chance didn't concentrate on Bruce. She turned her attention to the vacationed home at the end of an elegantly paved street.

Even with the winter and the snow blanketing the earth, there was no a sign of slush or sleet on the roads. Even the weather was rich. The homes looked cozy. There were decorations on the lawns that gave it the "Oh, even though we're filthy rich, we have cozy santas and reindeer in front of our house, which makes us less snobby" effect, which Chance puked in her mouth a little when she thought about it. Chance's target was the very last house in on a wrap-around cal-de-sac. In the summertime, this would be like House on Wonder Hill, a fucking beach party if ladies swarmed Harvey Dent. And they would, eventually, once he accepted her reward.

Chance pocketed her hands in her jeans and strode casually toward the house. Behind her watched two of her men: one was the man who had confessed the rape of his family; the other was a second man who was running Chance's bar below her room in place of Whiskey who had gone with Bane.

Chance approached house. She observed the stories and counted the windows.

_Let's see..._

From what she could tell in the front of the lawn, she counted three stories, the top most likely an attic since there was only one window up there. Two windows on either side on the second story, and three on the ground floor. And odds are, Dent had a basement. So...Perhaps seven rooms. Chance clicked her tongue, impressed. _Harvey, Harvey, Harvey Dent. Reform suddenly and then you get the richest home on the block. Seven rooms and no family._ She thought a bit aggressively, _What a shame._

Chance signaled for her two men to flank the house. The former rapist, nicknamed Brute by the soldiers who had brought him to the sewers, passed her quickly to stand against the left side of the house. He shot her a respectful, appreciative look. The second man passed her slowly, well-balanced; he was one of the men who had been there the longest and was trained personally by Bane. He was called Lick; Chance assumed that his name was either coined to him by a past, satisfied girlfriend or that he managed to clean his wounds without antiseptic. She didn't bother asking during present circumstances.

Lick flanked the right side of the house. He and Brute nodded toward her. Chance climbed the stairs to the door. She knocked lightly as a visitor would. There was no answer. Chance knocked once more. Nothing. In a gentle voice, she said,

"Lick, Brute, check the windows nearest to you."

She saw them move out of the corner of her eye.

"The lights aren't on."

"He must be asleep."

Chance sighed impatiently. She pressed herself against the door. To any others watching, she would have been talking through the door, appearing to be a desperate girlfriend trying to convince an angry to let her in to speak over a terrible, tearful fight. Chance, though, reached into her jacket, pulled out a small knife and inserted the tip of the blade into the door knob.

"I always told him..." she muttered, fiddling with the keyhole. "Don't get key doors. How many times did I repeat myself? All the time. Now look. I have to do it all by myself..."

"You know this guy or something?" questioned Brute curiously.

"Actually, quite well, recruit," said Chance, smiling. "Some people—AH!" Chance's knife hit the lever within the door; it clicked and the knob was able to turn. "_Yes!"_ she said triumphantly. She sent Brute a cheerful gaze; Lick smirked at the success of his mistress. "Some people," she continued, "never change. Now come on."

Chance pocketed her knife in her jacket. She twisted the knob. Brute and Lick jumped the railings. She turned to look at him.

"You could have taken the stairs," she said. "We're where milk and honey flow, gentlemen, not a break-in shack. Have some etiquette." She gave them an amused look. "Anyway, on we go."

Chance opened the door.

"Shit!" Brute said in a loud voice when all three of them encased the atmosphere. "Even a fuckin' bad guy gets all this! Where's the fuckin' equality?"

"I'm afraid that is how Gotham treats the reformed," said Chance, though feeling Brute's jealousy. "The city feeds the rich and leaves the poor to starve on the streets." She lifted an expensive vase from a pedestal, observed it with disgust, then tossed it at Lick, who caught it gracefully. "And the society wonders why men do what they do..."

It was a palace. Marble floors, paneled walls; beautiful pictures in gold frames hung on golden nails. Leather couches, mahogany wooden tables; glass windows; patio furniture outside looking on to a cloudless morning day, a frozen river in the distance. Chance snapped her fingers and directed her men through the rooms.

"Speak in different tongues if something important should cross your mind, sirs," she told them as their backs retreated. "We don't know exactly how protected Mr. Dent is." Chance observed the kitchen. She used to make meals for victims she would pursue. First they would eat. Then she would interrogate them. If they fulfilled their use, she let Ace murder them. Chance's cooking skills were excellent if she had the right tools.

"A new fridge _and _a new oven." Chance muttered distastefully. "Gotham spoils even the rotten."

There were footsteps upstairs.

"_(Someone's in the house)," _Chance said in French to Lick; she saw him pass through what could have been the dining room on her floor. Lick, who had been taught the skill of being poly-lingual, glanced at Chance in understanding.

"Brute, _(doesn't know every language, Lieutenant)," _Lick responded, but the direction he pointed told Chance that Brute was still downstairs with them.

Probably hearing his name, Brute came out from the left. He had been investigating a bedroom.

The footsteps moved again up the stairs.

Chance signaled for them to go up.

"Careful," she whispered as they ascended. "Men, who ever is up there, bring him down."

"Down?" asked Lick, looking confused.

Chance sighed impatiently.

"Bring him down _here,_" she clarified. She shook her head and said in a normal voice. "Fucking slang nowadays. Bring him to me. If it's Dent, keep him unharmed."

"If it's not?" inquired Brute.

"Kill him," said Chance dismissively.

They disappeared upstairs. Chance heard aggression, then even after five years, she recognized Harvey's voice. There was a struggle. A shout from Lick in Russian in frustration, several punches. Chance saw Harvey Dent rolling down the stairs. He grunted as he made his way. When he hit the landing, Chance pushed items out of her way and slid up onto the kitchen counter, hands under her chin as she waited for Dent to meet her eyes. Lick and Brute regrouped beside her, stepping over Harvey's body.

His face was swollen as she remembered. Though after not being around him, Chance realized just how demented he looked. She sighed. Harvey rose to his feet. His eyes met hers. She smiled at him. Then without warning, he withdrew a gun from his pocket, cocked it, and aimed the barrel at Chance. Chance didn't react. Lick and Brute took out machine guns; each gun was pressed against the temples of his head.

"I don't know who you're working with these days, but I know that you don't benefit me anymore. Get out of this house." Harvey said angrily. "Get out of my life..."

Chance raised her eyebrows, impressed. Then a smile.

"Oh, Harv, those were my last words to you, weren't they?" She slid off the counter. Lick and Brute watched her closely. Exactly _how_ close did she say she was to him? Chance's eyes bored into Harvey's. One would tell that they were once lovers.

"(_Bane wouldn't like to know how she's looking at him),_" said Lick in Spanish quietly.

Brute nodded.

Harvey Dent held the gun to Chance's chest.

"_I'll shoot you._" Harvey threatened dangerously in a low voice.

"Back off, buddy," warned Lick darkly.

Chance smiled at Harvey.

"After five years, hm? Still sore about our last fight?"

"You left me." Harvey said coldly.

_That's because you betrayed me,_ thought Chance hotly, but she didn't show it.

"Just let me off the hook this once. The only reason why my boys are wanting to kill you is because your gun is pushing against my chest." She indicated said weapon with her hand.

Harvey frowned.

"Easy," said Chance quietly.

Lick and Brute lowered their weapons. Harvey relinquished his aim at her. He sighed irritably.

"What are you doing here? Why have you come?"

"I want to help you."

"I have help."

Chance laughed. "Ah, yes, a doctor and a shrink." On a more serious note. "No, Harvey, I want to help you in appearances." She pointed to the bad side of his face. "I can help you with _that._"

Harvey sat on a couch away from her.

"You have no penny to your name."

Chance smiled again.

"You're wrong."

"I'm not. You've been gone for years. Suddenly you're up in the game again. And if you're going to ask surrender from me, it's no use. I've reformed. And I'll be able to stop you whenever you want to take Gotham over."

"I'm not on that run anymore." Chance said, as if updating a friend. "I changed."

"Nobody changes."

"Then by implication, you haven't either."

"Nobody like _you..._changes." Harvey clarified coldly.

Chance formed a mocked hurt expression,

"Oooh, ouch." Then apathetically, "Harvey, I just want to reconcile. I can help you get your surgery, that one that the famous surgeon wants to give you: the one that costs a quarter of a million dollars."

Chance sat down beside him.

"We've had our misgivings." She put a hand on his leg. "And God knows, we've said some things that we shouldn't have. Arguments that led to fights. Yet we can move past that."

Harvey scoffed. He took her hand and threw it at her.

"I'm not like you anymore. I'm not a crook."

"A crook?" scorned Chance. "Is that what I am? Harvey, if you only _knew_ what I've seen, what I have done to get where I am today—!"

"Which is what, some nobody with two goons?" Harvey chuckled.

Chance gave him a crude stare.

"You know, one day you're going to regret saying that..."

"When the world ends, I'll pray for mercy."

Chance gave him a look.

"When the world ends, you'd wish you had." Then lightly, "Harvey, just let me do this for you. If I give you this money, will you just take it and do what you want with it? If you have reformed or not, just take it and do what you will. I don't need it. You do."

He gestured about the house.

"I need the money? I've got this house."

"A house is no beauty with an ugly owner," said Chance remorselessly. "You were Gotham's White Knight. You're better at that than being a criminal. You became this monster out of what? Self-pity. If you're going to become a devil's advocate, you should be doing it because of a terrible wrong has happened to you." Out of the air she threw, "Or one of your loved ones die..."

Harvey rose to his feet.

"You're serious?"

"Yes." Chance convicted. "Take it." She handed him a written check. "You said you wanted what the world owed you. Here it is. I'm _giving_ it to you. _Take_ it."

He stared at her in wonder.

"You really have changed..." Harvey muttered.

"For the better, I assure you," said Chance with a smile. "Come on, boys."

"Chance."

She looked at him.

"I'm...sorry for how it all ended..."

Chance gave him a meaningful look.

"No. You're not sorry. But you will be..."

Chance retreated, a smirk on her beautiful face, as her scouts flanked her heels.


	32. The Lieutenant's Captain

The City in Pieces

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Lieutenant's Captain

Rachel Dawes hadn't changed, except her position in the DA office. Once a paralegal, she had been intent on putting away Falcone, and she was successful in that regard. Now she was a hot lawyer, ever more determined to put away Maroni. And Chance wouldn't blame her. Maroni had his men in the GCPD, the GDFD, CIA, FBI, all over the city, just waiting for his demand. But Chance wasn't stupid: she had the League of Shadows staged in areas as well. Lick was the bartender of her tavern, which had been bought out by Daggett Industries. Lick had stationed others in City Hall. Two Senators, nicknamed Gut and Shoe, had some pull, but they weren't seen a lot, spending their time below the ground to help with the rennovation in the sewers.

Chance could handle Maroni's men. It was Rachel that would be a challenge. If Chance's memory served her correctly, the last time she saw the former paralegal was when she had broken into her apartment and demanded to know who Batman was; it was that, or let off the prosecution against she, Ace, and Scarecrow. That meeting had been a year or two after Scarecrow and Chance had released fear gas into the city. Chance recollected that they had indiscreetly been assisting Ra's al Ghul, but she hadn't known who the master was or even who he really_ was._ Chance bit the inside of her cheek. Persuading Rachel to support Harvey Dent after he had terrorized the town wasn't going to be easy.

And she couldn't buy her off. Rachel's moral compass was straight as an arrow.

"_Fuck." _Chance muttered.

"Ma'am?" said Lick, staring at his mistress.

She turned away from the blue prints that her eyes had been gazing at absent-mindedly; she handed Lick an easy look.

"Nothing." Chance said, shaking her head.

It had been three days since they spoke to Harvey. Lick awaited her next orders, but Chance couldn't come up with anything. Rachel Dawes was so morally compromised, so honest—Rachel had been the one who told Chance that Harvey had been leaking information to Grace. Rachel had been the one who had sent cops to the hide-out. Thanks to her, actually, Chance would never have discovered Harvey's true allegiance. She scorned herself. She'd have been sent to Arkham as well.

"You look upset," observed Lick.

Chance gazed at him. He was strongly built, rather tall; a handsome youth with wide, blue eyes and blonde hair. Lick was an Aryan's dream. Chance was only twenty-nine years-old, so sizing Lick with her age and what he could be...He was probably a few years younger. Chance's gaze at him made him slightly discomfited. Bane never so much gazed at anyone except those whom he didn't like, and if he did like someone, Lick always saw him look at the lieutenant. Lick licked his lips nervously. Chance's eyes watched him.

"I'm...Perhaps I misspoke," said Lick, avoiding the terrible 'I'm sorry' bit with a slight hit and miss.

"No, you didn't." Chance finally said. She watched a sweep of relief wash over his face. "Lost in thought."

"Have you heard from Bane?" asked Lick curiously.

In a softer voice that might have been of retreat, Chance answered, "...No."

"I know he's getting the job done. Bane's quite a man, isn't he?"

Chance stared at him.

"He is."

"You, uh...like him?"

The question was merely to spike a conversation.

"Son, have you ever _met _the man?"

"He personally trained me." Lick said truthfully. "Sort of intimidating. I think training with you would be a better honor, if I were so bold."

A piercing look from her made him slide a gulp down his throat.

"Why do they call you 'Lick'?"

"Because I'm good at what I do." Lick answered, smiling charmingly at her.

"Is that some part of your charm?" she asked.

"Charm, Ma'am?"

"You're called that because of your way with girls?" said Chance challengingly.

He gave her a confused look.

"I don't mean to offend you, Lieutenant, but that's not why I'm called 'Lick'."

"So it's not a sex thing?"

"Well, I mean, it is, but not what you mean."

"Boy, I'm having a loss of words here." Chance said impatiently.

"Ma'am, they call me 'Lick' because that's what I do to men." Her eyes widened. "I'm gay."

Chance smiled in full, on-set amusement.

"I'm sorry?"

Lick smiled, nodding.

"I'm gay." He repeated it proudly.

"Young man, your open honesty with me has made you my second-in-command. Come, share a drink with me." She wrapped her arm around his shoulders. He chuckled at her amusement.


	33. Story About Lick

The City in Pieces

Chapter Thirty-Three: Story About Lick

Amber liquid shined in glasses as Chance poured an opened bottle of bourbon; she handed one to her newly promoted captain, Lick, and took one herself. She gave him a friendly gesture to sit on the couch opposite of her, snug in her apartment above the tavern. He observed his surroundings. Anyone entering would think that she just enjoyed the simple pleasantries of knick-knacks and lifestyle cooking. Or that's the impression he was given he looked around. Lick's blue eyes gazed at his Lieutenant admiringly so as she plopped down in the armchair.

For a moment in silence, they drank their alcohol. Then Lick spoke, caressing the neck of his glass with his pinky,

"What _is_ Bane like when the two of you are alone?"

Chance glanced at him uncertainly.

Lick apparently realized what his question implied, for he chuckled nervously, then shook his head, leaning forward to clarify.

"I didn't mean the sex..." At this, he was glad to see Chance's expression soften. "I mean, is he the sort that is hard in front of his mates and a big softie in front of his lover, or one of the combination of two all the time...is my question..." he summoned up. He sipped his glass.

Chance suddenly felt Bane's absence as a soft crush in her stomach. She licked her lips momentarily, trying to form some sort of answer. She was going to stay quiet, but she supposed that he was to be given some better answer than what the others deserved.

"He's..." Chance began seriously, searching for a good, etiquette description, but sighed and smiled. She raised her glass to her lips and breathed, "He's brilliant." She sipped.

Lick smiled warmly at her answer. He was sort of a sucker for love stories. He was quite interested in hers. But first, he was going to open up to her.

"I once had a lover." Lick said, gazing into his glass.

"What did _he_ do?" said Chance, coining their earlier discovery.

"A dentist." Lick answered. "Smart, clever, good-lookin'. Good with his hands."

She gave him a look. He smiled and pointed to his row of straight teeth.

"His work," he indicated. She snorted warmly, amused by his smooth recoveries.

"What do you mean you _had_ a lover?" said Chance curiously. "Young _strapping _man like you doesn't have a boyfriend?"

"No. He was taken from me."

Chance's amusement disappeared. Sympathy took over her expression. _So,_ she thought lightly, _he's going to tell me why he was initiated._ She hoped it wasn't as depressing as Brute's story, or as repulsive. She couldn't take another rape image. Chance winced at the tale.

"What happened, Lick?"

"We were in bed together," said Lick casually. "After some...love-making..." he coined the phrase gently. "Simple spooning, you know. Like how it should be when two people are in love. Well, this guy is on a rampage, you know. We don't know who he is, or where he's from. We didn't even know he is in the house. A break and entering, my boy tells me. So we go and inspect it together."

Lick swirled his glass around, gazing into the amber liquid.

"We hear this girl's laughter and both of us are trying to figure out whose laugh it could be. But it's a terrible laugh. So my mate and I go down some stairs; we had a nice, cozy cottage on the outskirts of Gotham, simple: quaint. Well, we hear this guy's voice, and we realize now it's two people. We're not scared or anything, we're just curious. So, I tell my boy that I should go first.

"Seeing as how I was more of a fighter—I was a bouncer for a club—I should be the one to investigate. He says 'No, dear, I should go; I'm the more calm one."

Chance interrupted him with a raised finger.

"If you don't want to talk about it," she said gently, "you don't have to—"

"I'm being honest. You had to hear the story some time."

Chance understood his reasoning, and nodded reluctantly.

Lick drank some of his glass.

"I tell him back, 'Dude, this is our house, we'll look together'. So we're at the end of the stairs and we hear this girl and the guy talking. He's got a weird laugh to him as well, and the girl's all 'ooh, this is so much fun', you know. Well, we both get down there, and the guy is gone. The girl looks at us and she's got this butcher knife in her hand."

"Did the dentist get killed?" asked Chance tenderly.

Lick nodded.

"But that's not the worst part. This man comes up to him and starts telling us stories about how he got his scars..."

Chance's eyes widened.

"And—"

"Did Joker kill him?" said Chance abruptly.

Lick stared at her. Chance's guess was accurate. She sighed.

"And," she asked ever more tenderly, "did he cut a smile into your lover's face?"

"...Yes..." Lick answered.

"What did the girl do?"

Lick stared into his glass. His eyes were starting to welt up. Chance rose to her feet and then sat next to him. Looking at her captain, Chance put a hand on his shoulder. Lick looked ill.

"What," she asked again softly, "did the girl do?"

"For years, I thought girls would sympathize when terrible things happened in relationships. I couldn't imagine why she was doing it. So cruel...I thought for sure she was hysterical..."

"Do what, Lick?" asked Chance gingerly. Lick met her eyes. Tears fell down his cheeks.

"When I turned to look at her reaction..." he uttered. He struggled with his word. "She..."

"_What?"_

Lick sighed. His voice broke.

"She was..._laughing._"


	34. Ace Leswaae

The City in Pieces

Chapter Thirty-Four: Ace Leswaae

For those who were new to Gotham and weren't aware of the once before Chance and Ace era, Ace Leswaae was a vindictive, wild, and unruly...well, a bitch. Chance knew Ace as a childhood friend. Throughout high school, they were inseparable, best friends. When they both graduated with honors, they had already intended to forget about college; they took the criminal road, knowing that only in Gotham, crime _did_ pay. They shoplifted; that was their ultimate spree. Then as they formed a partnership for three years, killing was part of the game.

Ace Leswaae was a very dangerous woman. Chance knew this. The main reason why she and Ace no longer were allies was because Ace, unlike Chance, had no moral fiber in her body. Ace had a terrible blood lust, and she satisfied it whenever she desired. Ace didn't care about lives. She and Chance often squabbled when Ace went against orders, killing Chance's profiteers who handed her money through extortion. Chance had dealt with Ace once when she had been working with Two-Face. He and Joker had planned to hit the Second National Bank on the same day, unknown to either party.

Chance had fought Ace, an unyielding knife thrower—strong, brave, and no conscience, whatsoever. Ace was, Chance would honestly admit, very good at what she did. And although she could do it for money as an assassin, Ace didn't care about profit. Which is why Chance and Ace could no longer work together. Before Chance was reformed by Bane, she had searched for power and wealth: to run Gotham's criminal underworld with fear and respect, but leave the masses alive. Joker was the prince of crime—still was as Chance lived.

The one quality that Chance _did_ admire in her old friend was her loyalty. When Chance fought alongside her in the good old days, police acquired her to receive information. Ace said nothing.

But Ace was not always so angry and defiant. She once was calm and collected. But something set her off, and Chance knew what it was. It just didn't matter anymore. For what it was worth now, Ace's reason for being so cruel would be meaningless. But Chance knew that one day, Batman would be trying to stop Ace, so she kept reminding herself of why Ace simply decided that no human deserved to live.

Ace, beautiful and blonde, had fell asleep one day at Chance's apartment when they finally moved out. According to Ace, she had a dream where despite everyone's worth to help a corrupt city, the good guys always finished last. Oh, sure, there was Batman, but both Ace and definitely Chance knew that there had been someone who set the Batman off one day to make him do what he does. Ace had resolved from her dream that good people and bad people can become the other's enemies, and friends are the worst enemies because they're the ones who know all about their buddies. True words, Chance understood, but she believed that everyone knew that already.

Ace originally had believed in humanity, but after that one dream, well...

Chance had never really feared Ace...well, until now. Lick's story, according to him, was only like a few months ago. Chance figured that her old friend had been so influenced by the Joker that Ace was so infatuated with him, she'd have the will to kill Joker if he asked her to do it, just because she knew that everybody had to die.

Chance hadn't run into Ace since she had broken her out of the asylum. She remembered telling her that when she met her again, she'd kill the Joker, then she'd kill her. Chance's stomach dropped. She couldn't go alone whenever she tracked down Ace. No, Ace would remember it all. Such a psychopath, but Ace was good at recollecting.

Chance had comforted Lick from his cries. She had poured him something stronger, though she didn't identify it. He took it without question. Chance sat down beside him.

"Lick," she began hoarsely. "You may have to re-train yourself to stay calm and collected."

"Why?" asked Lick.

Chance stated her answer carefully. "Because, Lick...I know the girl."

"You...know her...?" said Lick slowly. "But...you don't associate yourself with psychotics..."

Chance smiled greviously.

"I knew before I met Bane..."

"An old enemy?" his voice was hopeful.

"No." Chance said. She stated it with a blunt force. "She's an old friend of mine from high school."

Lick restrained himself.

"I understand if you can't do this." Chance told him sweetly. "Please, don't think I'm making you my captain to rile you. I didn't know your story."

"Bane wouldn't have taken that into consideration," said Lick. He shook his head. "Neither should you."

Chance gave him a look. Her voice shook with the light simmer of irritation.

"Don't tell me what he would do, boy." She clicked her tongue. "You should go back down to the tavern. Your services are needed there."

"I meant no offense," said Lick, rising to his feet.

"Whether you meant it doesn't matter to me. Go." Chance said dismissively, pointing to the door.

Lick nodded. He quietly left the room.

Chance sighed. She reached behind her ear then tapped the mic that Bane had given her before she left. When the receiver came in, there was a lot of noise in the background. Chance concentrated. Some men yelling, a honking noise...people screaming in...Italian? Chance licked her lips. She glanced her wrists; they were glowing red.

"Bane." Chance said lightly.

There was no one to answer. She listened harder. Only the same noises.

"_Bane."_ Chance said louder. She was growing impatient. She opened her mouth to say his name again, "B—"

"_I heard you the first time."_

Chance's stomach tossed. His voice was loud and thundered in her ear. It was like he was talking behind her, right there at the neck. Her neck reddened. _Oh, good thing I'm not in public...I need another cold shower, apparently._

She composed herself.

"Why didn't you answer me?"

"_I'm dealing with a situation at the moment." _He said something to his fellow men. The answers he got back were loud, but understanding. "_You didn't sign on with the coded message."_

Chance gave a look to no one in particular.

"You didn't tell me any message," she retorted, crossing her arms.

"_No,_" his voice confirmed; a sigh followed. "_Creativity isn't your strongest feature. Anything would have sufficed rather than saying my name." _A pause. "_Though, still, do you hear any complaints?"_

Chance smiled.

"_I know you didn't tap in to simply—_Get the truck on the road!" Bane said loudly to his driver; his voice boomed. Chance jumped at the sudden rise in volume. "_I'm not paying you to—ugh.." _His exasperation could be heard. There was a gun shot. Chance jumped at that too. "_If you drive better than _he_ did, you will live longer. And if you mess this up, I will shoot you too. Drive._"

Chance waited until he finished the conversation.

"Bane..."

"_I'm listening."_

"You shot one our men?" said Chance disapprovingly.

"_No, I need them. For now. One would think the budget for actual Italians for employment would not be so high." _An amused chuckle. "_But apparently everyone I have met so far has come to Europe on a floating door._"

Chance rolled her eyes. _What a thing to say..._

"Bane, I have a problem."

"_I didn't think you tapped in for a good conversation."_

"Did you know that some of these men have been in contact with Joker and Ace?"

"_Of course,_" he drawled. "_They know who they were going to fight when they joined us. If there are new arrivals, you can inform them on the situation. Speaking of situations, Chance...Did Dent take your news well?"_

When Chance didn't answer, he sighed.

"_Is there anything that you're not telling me?"_

"Nothing happened," she assured him. "He accepted the offer with little complaint."

Chance heard his laughter on the other line.

"_Chance, I know there is no man that would want anything to do with you in Gotham."_

"Trust me that much, do you?" she retorted, a bit shunned by his statement.

"_Yes. Would you like to know why?"_

"Not really."

A deadly pause.

"_I still have eyes watching you._"

Chance gulped. That was a bit too ominous for her.

"_You're a faithful dog, Chance. I taught you the lesson of intrusion when you first entered without permission." _He sighed. "_Imagine just how well you will heal if I discovered a betrayal. Do not worry about the men. They would die before acting out of turn. Do your job, they will do theirs."_

"When are you coming back?" Chance asked the question she wanted to know the answer to the most.

"_These things take time, my dear. All good things come to those who wait._"

Chance sighed.

"Goodbye, Sir."

She tapped out. Chance frowned. Ace was not a woman to be trifled with, but Chance didn't want to see the woman be blown away by a man who harbored ill will. Chance didn't know how many men had joined out of the sake of vengeance for their loved one. For all she knew, all of them would be wanting to kill Ace. Chance would have to simply...go solo when she'd meet them.


	35. Sooo How Are Yooou?

The City in Pieces

Chapter Thirty-Five: Sooo How Are Yooou?

Chance had never told anyone about the secret communication she was given to speak to Bane. The mic-head set was a small piece that fit along the shell of her ear, an untraceable, undetected way of hearing her master's orders with little intervention. Chance didn't bother telling the members of the League of Shadows about it, mainly because she didn't know who would turn that piece against her. There had been a traitor in the League; he was running Gotham in a black mask with wings. _Theatricality and deception are powerful agents,_ thought Chance. _Looks like Brucie might have taken that a bit too literally._

Chance recruited Brute and Lick. Lick gave her a furtive look; Chance returned him a solemn gaze. He hadn't said anything to her since their last conversation. Although she felt sorry for his loss, Chance didn't want his vengeance interferring in plans, nor did she want him to be the cause of a failed mission to recruit Ace. Brute had been under the tutelage of Lick for the last 24 hours. Chance observed him. Lick, apparently, had adopted Bane's training technique, due to the massive bruising and several lacerations on Brute's body. Chance raised her eyebrows, impressed.

"I have to speak to Rachel Dawes," said Chance dutifully. She pointed to the outline of Gotham city, tracing a finger along the path of a line that was a street. She tapped along the apartment buildings, counting them to find the one that Rachel would be in, if she hadn't moved. "She's here," Chance resolved, tapping the square of a building with her fingernail.

"Since this is a more delicate issue," said Chance, "I can't have anyone tailing me in there with her. Rachel's a brave girl, but she'll think I've ordered an ambush. I mean, the last time I was in there, we had her gagged and bound, forcing information out of her," said Chance, further explaining the situation casually.

"We," said Lick darkly, "as in you and Ace..."

Chance gave him an off-beat glance.

"Yes. Ace and me...Anyway, I imagine Rachel has dialed down a bit. She used to carry a taser with her, but after all these years of mindless corruption and nothing more than a few mob bosses terrorizing the town, she's let up." A gentle gaze. "So I'm asking, as a woman, that you stay here when I go up to talk to her."

"What if she's dangerous?" said Brute curiously.

"She's a lawyer, not a mad doctor with a scalpel," said Chance sardonically. "Just do this for me."

The two of them nodded, though both held skeptical looks. Chance nodded with a grateful smile.

"Thank you."

Chance emerged from the manhole of the sewers. Darkness had fallen on Gotham. Seemed like only hours ago that she had strolling through sunlight. Chance ventured through an average neighborhood. Apartments where Rachel lived weren't like the Buckingham Palaces in Bruce's line of housing, but they weren't the slummy shacks in Old Town either._ A well-off, standard issue for a well-off, standard lawyer,_ Chance thought grimly as she crossed the street. A few guys in a passing vehicle stuck their heads out of the window and made cat-calls at her. Chance rolled her eyes and walked on.

Chance's ignoring them apparently infuriated them. So when the car stopped, and four men filed out of the car, Chance turned immediately to gaze at them with an irritated pulse in her neck. She didn't want to break any bones; she simply wanted to get the deal done with Rachel and go home to sleep in her bed. Though these men seemed to think she was up for more.

"You got a cute ass, don'cha', sweet cheeks?" said one of them, stepping to the side to eye her bum. "Wanna come home with me?"

Chance stayed quiet.

"Ah, one of the silent types," said a second man. "Well, I like those too."

Chance said nothing.

"You don't want to talk to us, sweetie?" asked a third man.

"We'll treat you so nice," said a fourth man.

Chance sighed. "I'm tired of dealing with men who think they own every girl in sight," she said, crossing her arms.

"Oh, she speaks. Them are fightin' words."

Chance scoffed.

"You don't know who you're dealing with..." she warned.

"I know there's four of us and one of you..." A pause. "But I have been in those situations before, and I've enjoyed it all the same."

But as the four men closed in, Chance watched four more approach from the darkness. Chance recognized the extras from the sewers below. She gave an approving smile as Brute and Lick took two men by their throats from behind, holding a shining blade to their jugulars; two unidentified masked men took the other two bullies by their arms, sending the unexpected men to their knees.

"What—?"

"Oh, my God, we've messed with a prostitute!"

"Oh!"

"Ouch! Be fucking gentle!"

Chance watched their reactions. Then she turned to Lick.

"I told you to stay behind," she said.

"We know better than that," said Brute.

"Fine." Chance said, shrugging. "Men, do what you do if you were to avenge your loved ones." She smiled. "Just remember to clean up the mess when you're done."

"Yes, Ma'am, yes, Ma'am," Brute said cheerfully.

The men that Brute, Lick, and the two others arrested were calling out for help. But no one answered their pleas. Chance glanced around to see a few witnesses who were standing around, watching the scene. Chance shrugged her shoulders. _That's Gotham, for you._

She approached the apartment building, through open a door, then walked upstairs. Finding Rachel's room, she knocked. Chance waited. Rachel's voice was heard from the inside,

"Who's there?"

"An old visitor." Chance answered back.

"One moment."

Chance watched the door knob turn. The door cracked open; Chance saw a gun creep out from the slight opening. _Well, Rachel, you are very prepared._ Rachel's green eyes stared at Chance from within her barricade.

"What...?" Then Rachel recognized Chance. "What—You're supposed to be dead! How did you find me?"

"Easy, girl," said Chance, raising her hands slowly for a defense.

"Don't tell me 'easy', you bitch. You been gone for years. You came back. Why? To threaten information from me? Screw you. Get out...Get out."

"A bit of an overreaction from a new DA; congratulations, by the way." Chance said cheerfully, despite the circumstances. When Rachel didn't respond, Chance continued. "You haven't moved, I see; well, why would you: nice weather this time around, great rental prices—better than those slums in Old Town, I'd say. Not as quaint as the Wayne Manor, though." Chance added with a smile.

"Why are you talking to me like we are friends?" said Rachel, still aiming the gun at her.

"I don't intend on doing anything harmful to you, Miss DA."

"You can understand why I don't believe you." Rachel retorted coldly.

"Anyone could," said Chance lazily. "If I could just talk to you about something?"

"So talk."

"Well, I'm a bit uncomfortable."

"Why?"

Chance scoffed; she indicated Rachel's pistol.

"Well, I'm at gun point, Miss Dawes." Chance smirked. "Even for a gal like me, it's still nerve-wrecking."

Rachel sighed irritably.

"You just want to talk?" she said skeptically.

"I promise." Chance said whimsically. She made the movement on her chest as she said, "Cross my heart, hope to—well, you know."

Rachel frowned.

"I swear to God, I'll shoot you if you attack me," she promised.

"Fine by me, I hate this sweater anyway," remarked Chance.

Rachel opened the door all the way. Chance entered the room. The door closed behind her. Rachel still held the gun at Chance, who only looked around at the house.

"Hm, you made some changes." Chance said lightly.

"Necessary changes." Rachel said.

"I recall that the last time we talked," sighed Chance fondly, "you told me what Harvey was doing."

"He's reformed since then. Did you know that?"

"I do." Chance said. "Actually"—she plopped into a couch—"that's why I'm here."

Rachel lowered her pistol.

"What?"

"Harvey's been given a...generous...amount of money for a full-facial reconstructive surgery. It'll revitalize his senses, make him aware of his true self. What's incapacitated him for so long has been his alter ego, Big Bad Harv. Since he _is_ his only enemy, battling him has long since been life's truest battles, but it has been easy for him to undergo treatment for such a disorder. Psychological fears are only present when the mind is fully convinced it is there; Harvey has been through that.

"He's frightened of his own shadow," said Chance, crossing her legs. "Once he gets this surgery, it rejuvenates his face to his handsome self; his bad side will go away, and he'll become once more, the dashing DA that Gotham deserves. Of course, the surgical instruments might toss around his memories. He'll have no recollection of being a bad man," said Chance. Then in a gentle voice,

"So he will not remember me."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Rachel slowly.

"I'm telling you this," rephrased Chance sweetly, "because I know that you harbor some kind of crush on Bruce Wayne. How I know is irrelevant; I'm sort of intuitive when it comes to these things. Bruce is a playboy millionaire who lavishes himself with sports cars, movie stars..." Chance shook her head. "He hasn't got time for a love life."

"You can say that again..." Rachel muttered in agreement.

Chance smirked.

"But you and Harvey have always shared the disdain for the corrupt," said Chance. "I recall once that you and he were trying to put me away. So much luck yet?"

"No. But I thought you were dead."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me." Chance said, slightly annoyed. "Harvey's a good man, Rachel. Once he is healed, he will be a stronger person: all the more willing to do what is necessary. He isn't afraid of people, not of Joker, not of Ace...Not of me. Speaking of which, have you _seen_ Ace?"

"Planning on killing her? Be my guest." Rachel retorted disdainfully.

Chance frowned.

"She's a dangerous witch," said Rachel. "Word on the street is that she's found out that you're not dead either." Rachel nodded. "If I were you, I'd sleep with one eye open."

Chance shrugged.

"I can handle her. Anyway, Rachel," she sighed, rising to her feet. "Do what you want. Bruce is a long-time billionaire. You might be friends, but a girl's got to eat. Just think about it. I'm only telling you this, girl-to-girl." Chance smiled. "Take care, Dawes."

Rachel watched Chance leave.


	36. Here We Go

The City in Pieces

Chapter Thirty-Six: Here We Go

Winter passed. Fall came.

Chance glanced at the monitors in the command center, searching any trace of Ace's handiwork. She must have been staring for...Chance glanced at her wristwatch..._Hours._ Her eyes were bloodshot, sagging slightly. Her hands had turned white from lying flat on the surface of the desk, still as can be. And she realized how much her feet hurt. Chance's sigh was ragged from silence. She finally sat down in the swivel chair, resolving that Ace was not having her daily blood work.

Then she was watching a camera. It turned onto the First Gotham National Bank. There was commotion. Chance rose to her feet, her eyes widening. Chance rounded the cameras to the closest angles using the keyboard. _I know you're there, Ace. Show me that smile._

From what Chance could see, there was a robbery being performed in the town square, taken place just when school was being let out; a row of school buses drove smoothly along the road. Chance eyed several screens. The buses rolled out then there was a loud explosion in the middle of the Bank's lobby—Chance sighed. _There it was._ One of Ace's specialties was demolition, among her many...drastic measures.

Chance could guess that Joker was behind it as well, though where they were, she didn't know.

_Not along the sidewalk,_ she thought, glancing through the streets, shaking her head. _Not inside the bank, surely..._

Chance's eyes fell suspiciously on the rows of buses; the last one followed in procedure. Cops came shortly after as several passersby ran into the exploded wall of the bank to check on the survivors, if any. Chance turned the cameras on the line of yellow vehicles; she watched them all with peeled eyes. _Give me some kind of hint...anything..._

When nothing happened, she uttered in frustration,

"_Something!"_

Then as if on cue, one of the buses turned right suddenly.

Chance watched with a smile. The cameras steadied on the bus. She watched it roll into a private warehouse on the outskirts of the...docks...Chance wanted to hit herself.

Before she left Ace, she had given her keys to an abandoned warehouse that she, herself, had barricaded in during the times she was paranoid in Gotham. Chance had forgotten about the warehouse by the docks, most likely out of a fit of anger. This was why she wanted to put her head through a wall. Chance finally knew where Joker and Ace were hiding out; though they didn't make much an effort to keep it hidden.

In fact, Ace and Joker simply climbed out of the back of the bus, carrying pounds upon pounds of bags full of what could only be quite a billion, in cash. Chance watched them. Ace's long, blonde hair had been chopped off to a rocky hair cut: clean, soft, easy to keep. And Chance's face faltered when she saw Joker. He seemed quite a bit, disheveled than usual. He and Ace were talking as they unloaded their rewards, and it looked like usual pleasantries: might as well be making dinner arrangements.

Chance knew where they were..._Well..Here...We...Go..._


	37. Bane's Call

The City in Pieces

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Bane's Call

Chance kept a sleepy eye on the carnival couple, watching them unload the pounds of cash from the school bus. As she watched, something poked at her from the middle of her brain, something so bizarre. It wasn't like Ace or Joker to steal from a bank for just money. It was too far of a stretch to think that after all these years, suddenly profit was important. Joker wasn't a man of material, and if he was, he was all about things that could be bought off the black market.

_Gasoline, gun powder, and dynamite,_ Chance listed casually as she turned the cameras to continue the supervision over said couple.

She had to admit to herself that after all these years, she was a bit apprehensive to confront them. Ace's serial killer instincts apparently caught wind that she was alive: Rachel said so herself. Chance probably would have guessed that Ace never really thought her old friend was dead; just in hiding to hit at the opportune moment. Chance had been considering Bane's assurance that his men—or _her _men—wouldn't act on their vengeance if they saw Ace, but Bane was on entirely different continent. It was more of "Mama said, Papa said" incident for her. If the men didn't want to obey, it was just mother. But things would change once Daddy came home.

_Nope,_ thought Chance decisively, _nope, I'm going alone._

Chance rose to her feet from the monitor's chair. She would go during the night; for now, she was going to rest.

Chance slipped into a nightie and then under the covers. Her eyes glanced at the empty side of her bed; she sighed sullenly then stared up at the ceiling. Rest, as it were habit for a nocturnal gal, seemed far away as she waited for sleep to hit her. Chance's eyes, though, constantly turned to the empty pillow beside her own. She passed a hand over it.

The static sound happened again—

The sudden noise made her jump; she fell out of bed. Then the voice she wanted to hear the most sounded,

"(_Are you able to talk)?_" Bane's voice was a low, deep cannon in the silent room. He spoke in French. Chance, recovering from the fall, uttered a low noise from the _thud _on the floor. She responded back with lesser composure,

"_Oui."_

"_You sound out of breath._"

Chance stared into the dark room.

"You can hear me breathe?" questioned Chance incredulously.

"_I hear a lot_."

She sighed. Chance pulled herself off the floor.

"_Why are you out of breath?"_

"I fell off the bed." Chance answered. "Is there a way to make that static less noisy?"

"_That was me,_" said Bane on the other line.

"You?" Chance questioned, sliding back under the covers.

"_Yes._"

He sounded unlike himself. She wondered what exactly made him contact her, especially during the day like this.

"Is something wrong?" asked Chance curiously. "You told me to contact you in case of something urgent."

"_It's been three days, Chance. You said nothing about Ace. Did you find her?"_

"Yes." Chance answered, still uncertain of the point. "She and Joker just robbed one of the banks. Got away, scot-free. Though they've got quite a load from what I saw."

"_And why do you sound curious?"_

"They don't care about money, Sir," said Chance. _I was pretty sure I made that clear long ago, but whatever..._she thought, slightly annoyed.

"_You know where they are?"_

"Actually, I do." Chance muttered. "They are staying in a warehouse just off the street from the Gotham City Docks."

"_You followed them there?"_ said Bane; his voice was disapproving.

"No."

"_How do you know their exact location?"_

"Cameras."

He scoffed on the line. Chance's stomach dropped.

"_I haven't been gone that long, Chance. I know that when you are looking at those monitors, you can't see every detail. You know it's a warehouse, how?"_

"Because..." For some reason, she felt nervous. Unbelievable...4,000 miles away and he could still make her uneasy. "Because, Sir...I used to make headquarters in that warehouse..."

"_If you were the only order in the warehouse, how did they get in?"_

"Bane, it's a warehouse. It's not impenetrable," said Chance, hoping to hide some of her anxiety with a sardonic voice.

"_You're paranoid, Chance. If you were the last person to use that building, it would have been rigged with traps. How were they able to avoid those?"_

Chance sighed.

"_You're about to give me some bad news, aren't you?_" Bane said accurately.

"Sir, the reason why they avoided the traps is because...I told Ace how to get inside..."

A pause.

"_What?"_

"Sir, I gave her a key." Chance licked her lips. "Before we parted, I told her that she could use it."

There was a shift of movement on his end of the line.

"_Let me get this straight, just to clarify. You hand this woman a key to a warehouse that you no longer use, but it has _all_ the weapons that you used to have, and anything in there that can be used dangerously...And you've spent about a year, tracking her down, when she's been where you left her...five years ago..."_

Chance bit her lip.

"_Am I saying this right?" _Bane said irritably.

"Yes."

"_Does Ace know that you are alive?_"

"According to Rachel Dawes, she does." Chance said quietly.

"_You have no element of surprise working on your side._"

"I know." Chance muttered.

He sighed. Chance's stomach rolled.

"_Go alone when you meet her."_

"Sir?"

"_You heard me correctly, Chance. It is obvious that this girl and you have your own issues to sort. The men will disagree strongly with my decision, but this ordeal must be sorted out between the two of you. If you should..._perish..._" _his choice word might have been the less descriptive one, "_your second-in-command and the men will follow you."_

"Wait, you're sacrificing me?" Chance said, suddenly hot with irritation.

"_Ace is not our problem. She and Joker want to rile the established order; they are doing half the job for me. However, she does have a death wish for you, and our plan isn't going to be destroyed over a five-year-old grudge that has left your friend heart-broken."_

Chance straightened up in bed.

"She doesn't have a broken heart; her mind is lost! She doesn't want to compromise—she wants me dead."

"_As I said before, Chance: deal with it on your own."_

"I'll have my second-in-command write that on my epitaph," Chance said derisively. Then, viciously, "_Sir."_

The door opened across from her.

"Lieutenant," said Lick from the door frame, "is everything okay in here?"

Chance looked at Lick, slightly put off.

"It's fine, Captain." Chance told Lick, aware that Bane could overhear the conversation.

"I just heard a one-sided conversation in here, Ma'am," said Lick protectively, looking over the room with narrowed eyes. "I thought someone was threatening you..."

"I said it's fine, Lick." Chance said gently. "Please stand watch at the monitors."

Lick nodded, though suspicion was the air around him. He closed the door slowly behind him.

Bane's voice was sarcastic.

"_It seems like you've got Lick on your good side, how sweet."_

"He's a good man." Chance told Bane coldly.

"_He is." _Bane said.

Chance sighed.

"Would you like me to kill Ace?"

"_No_._"_ Bane declined. "_Not yet."_

"So if she starts to best me and the only way for me to survive is to kill her...?"

"Then do what you must in order you to live and her to survive. Do not kill her."

"Order are orders," Chance muttered. "Fine. Why _did_ you call me in the first place?"

"_I wanted to make certain that you were still alive."_

Chance smiled.

"Oh..."

"_Sleep well, Chance. You'll need it..."_


	38. Ready to Attack

The City in Pieces

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Ready to Attack

Chance didn't fear death. She informed her captain of the situation. He didn't take it well. As Chance strode around the weapons' room, obtaining her set of knives, guns, ammunition, and whatever equipment she'd need to break into a warehouse or avoid booby traps, the homosexual soldier was at her heels; his face reddened with anger.

"He expects you to go alone to face that wretch—"

Chance faced him automatically with a hand out in front of her; he had to back up a good amount of space to stay out of her face.

"She's not a wretch." Chance said calmly, though her voice beheld some warning.

"This woman killed my boyfriend..." said Lick gently; he held back some contempt.

"I empathize, Lick," said Chance, patting his shoulder, "but she is still my old friend. She's not a wretch; just a mad psychopath." A pause. "Whatever she's done, she'll pay for it the next life. Right now, Bane wants me to try to recruit her. I have to fulfill that request. She _can_ be a good person," said Chance when Lick glared at her. "She's quite funny when you get to know her."

"I don't think I had that opportunity." Lick remarked.

"Don't be hostile with me, Lick. I'm just as reluctant to do this as you are. I'm not frightened to meet her, or fighting her."

"Then why so nervous?" said Lick, following her again when she went out the door.

Chance turned to look at him again.

"She's got a way of hitting the right nerve." Chance said mildly.

Chance located the warehouse beside the city docks. She approached it carefully. Her eyes searched the area. The windows had been boarded up when Chance had held herself in there; now they seemed paned with red..._paint?_ Chance observed the stone. Seemed like Ace and Joker might have redecorated. Chance wondered what a mess it would be in there. She and Joker had been under her nose the entire time. _Let's see...like nine years..._Chance sighed internally.

_No wonder why Bane wanted me to go alone._

A sudden stomach drop later, Chance reached behind her ear and tapped the mic-head set. The familiar static sound, then she heard Bane speaking, though it wasn't pointed toward her. The way he faltered when he was talking made her know that he heard her peek into his conversation. She waited until he could talk.

"_Take the fork in the road,"_ Bane was saying; Chance assumed he was speaking to his men, "_the two of you find a path by truck. Rocco, take the south east end. Whiskey, search the West End along the houses. He should be here._" Chance heard the men run around and away. Then he sighed. "_Chance."_

"Sir." Chance tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth.

"_Make no mistake, Lieutenant, that my men still watch you._" Bane said ominously. Chance glanced around the area. The darkness could hide the shadows of men; the pavement was only smooth enough to cover the intricate steps of any man. Chance sighed shakily. His warning came out and breathed upon her neck; chills went up her spine.

"_I was clear when I instructed you to go alone. I hear no one with you. You did well to heed that order."_

"Your appreciation is more than welcome, Bane, but I'm actually starting to feel that I was wrong to go alone," muttered Chance.

"_What gives you that impression?"_

"It's so...quiet," whispered Chance. Her eyes watched the warehouse.

"_Be aware, Chance,_" said Bane in a low voice.

"Easy for you to say..." Chance muttered callously. "The people you're trying to find don't know you're there...I think Ace knows..."

"_As I said before...Careful."_

Chance sighed.

"I will be." Chance said, and then she slipped, "Love you, Darling."

A pause.

"_Chance..._"

Chance winced. _Shit.._. She closed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek. The awkward moment when she realized that she never told him exactly how she felt was, well, there. Certainly, it crossed boundaries; and she hadn't meant for it to slip. It just happened. Or that's how she was trying to think over and over. Chance scratched her fingernails against the heels of her palms.

"I...I...Sir, I..." Chance stammered.

"_Don't apologize,_" said Bane on the other line. Chance heard nothing of disapproval in his voice. "_When you meet Ace, try to recruit her. Whatever you must do, keep her alive."_

Chance licked her lips. She nodded.

"Yes, Sir..."

"_And Chance..."_

"What?"asked Chance softly.

"_Watch yourself." _Bane added tenderly. She noted it lightly; she hadn't ever really heard him sound so...affectionate. Chance didn't know if she liked his tone. She almost felt unsettled by it. Chance heard Bane hang up on the other line. Chance looked at the warehouse, staring at the lair that freaked her out...so...so..._much._


	39. Speak of the Devil

The City in Pieces

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Speak of the Devil

Chance approached the warehouse slowly. Her fingernails dug into the heels of her palms. She gazed at the door that would be the entrance. Chance's mind started reeling, trying to remember the traps that she had set when she had inhabited the warehouse. Chance turned to the side of the door. _Traps from the door frame..._Chance bent down, took a plastic bag that had blown her way, and set it on the frame. Automatic spikes shot out from the bottom frame. Chance watched them go down with the metal sheering below the wood. _The heated doorknob..._Chance stared at the door knob; it was a light, smoldering red. Chance nodded.

Chance looked up across the windows, to the roof, along the stony ridges...Chance strode around the warehouse, glancing at the ocean that was behind the establishment. Chance searched the bottom of the warehouse walls. She touched the patterns along the stones. _Secret passage...Where the fuck is that secret passage? Come on, Ace..._

Her hands fell through; the stone faltered along the dead grass. _Yes! A door!_

Chance entered through the secret door. She entered a dark tunnel.

_What the fuck?_

Chance walked slowly. She closed her eyes. Bane's voice was in her head. _"Humans fear what they cannot see; darkness clouds your senses, and makes you vulnerable. Listen."_

Chance heard conversation. Then suddenly the floor came out from beneath her; she fell through; her stomach tossed up in the air. The wind was stricken from her. Chance opened her eyes—a wave of colors swirled around her. It was like she was falling through a fun house. Chance kept quiet, holding in a long scream. When she landed, it was just a matter of luck when she hit the floor with her feet on the ground. Her boots hit the floor with a loud _clop! _

Chance opened her eyes to see that the warehouse had been transformed into a wild, wacky array of colors. Objects that were supposed to be small were actually large. There was a large banana in the middle of the floor, a statue. Lime green, canary yellow, crimson red, aqua blue, pure white, and extreme measures of purple flashed around the floor. Tents were set up around the room. It was...

"Fucking incredible..." Chance muttered, wide-eyed.

Then there was a squeal of extreme delight from the right corner of the room. The darkness around her suddenly disappeared. The lights hit the walls. Chance had thought it had been bright, but now the warehouse was entirely illuminated. She stared around the room. Her fingers clenched against the pockets of her jeans; she was making sure that her pistols were still in there.

Chance heard the laughter again. Ace's voice carried through the room. Chance followed it to the far wall. She turned to see the woman sitting on a throne-like chair. Chance absorbed the atmosphere. There were goons surrounding her, wearing face masks. Joker was sitting in the chair beside her. Joker's face was a bit more menacing than the last she ever saw.

His scars were very visible beneath the red lipstick; dark eyes glanced at her from the black make-up; and the rest of his face was covered by a pasty white powder. Chance glanced from him to the woman beside him. Ace was recognizable: her eyes shined that usual glimmer. Ace had dyed her blonde hair to a crimson tide; she wore black lipstick. Ace wore black, red, and white, almost an imitation of Harley Quinn, though her outfit was more...risque.

Chance approached carefully.

Ace's one leg was thrown over the arm of her throne chair; her hands were wrapped around Joker's neck. Apparently, Chance had disrupted one of their 'freaky' sessions. She watched Ace and Joker. Ace's hands fell away from her lover when she, apparently recognized Chance.

"Well, well, well," said Ace in a high-pitched voice. "Looks who's come a-courtin'."

"Your sense of humor hasn't changed," remarked Chance. She indicated the goons, "Friends of yours?"

"Security." Ace said, waving a hand to them with a grin. "You're quite a looker these days, ol' girl." Ace rose to her feet. "Five years later, and you're just so _perdy." _

"Judging by your tone, I'd say that you miss me." Chance said, hands on hips.

Ace chuckled.

"Well, I'm wondering if you're still that careful leader I befriended, sugar-baby," Ace retorted.

Chance smiled.

Ace glanced at Joker, who smiled widely at her.

Ace snapped her fingers at the goons in masks.

"Go on, sweetie pies. She doesn't want to kill unless she has to. She's all yours!" Ace said loudly, pointing to Chance.

Chance sighed. The men approached her. In a steady, rising temper, Chance was already starting to get irritated. Ace wanted some action, did she? Well, she'd do it. Chance approached the men. The first man raised a hand to punch her in the face; Chance took his elbow and cracked it on her knee. He went down. The second man charged her into her stomach—Chance held his head and twisted his neck; he fell to the floor in a _thud,_ dead. Three men tried to get her from each point of her body; Chance flipped onto her hands and twirled to hit them in a furious double-wide kick. Her heels hit their necks in a _bam, bam, bam_ sequence. The guys fell to the floor, unconscious. Chance watched them fall. She looked at Ace, who smiled, impressed.

"Chance, old friend, you found a master, haven't you?" she cooed; her tongue licked her teeth. "Who did you sleep with, this time, love?"

Chance smirked.

"You have no idea."

Ace glanced at the fallen goons.

"You know, Chance, the last time we met, you told me that...Oh, wait, what was it...?" Ace tapped her fingers on her forearm. "Oh, _yes_, I remember. You'd kill Joker and me."

"Totally misunderstood," remarked Chance.

Ace withdrew two knives from her hips. Chance glanced at them.

"I think I understood perfectly."

Joker chuckled from his seat.

"I thought you weren't ever going to come, Chance," said Joker. "I was sure that I would have to schedule another robbery."

Chance gave him a derisive look.

"Shut up, you!" Chance said, throwing a finger at him threateningly.

Chance withdrew her swords from her back.

In an instant, Ace wielded against her—

As Chance had anticipated before, Ace's aggressive manner of combat was still intact. Chance waited for the opportune moment, but then realized that she was not like that anymore. Chance was in a habit of parrying against her. Ace hit her several times: it made contact constantly.

Chance was bleeding from her arms and legs. Ace's strength had cut through her swords. She pulverizing her on the floor, kicking, scratching, clawing, punching...biting. Chance was falling down a hole...she was returning to agony. Ace was brilliantly lit by the lights above. Chance cried out in agonizing pain. A bruise on her knees; cuts, scrapes, lacerations. Ace grabbed her hand and broke it easily. Chance squealed loudly.

It was as if her training had just gone out the window.

Ace took a knife to Chance's stomach. The blade slid into Chance's skin; blood oozed from her body in a terrible squirt. Chance cried out in agonizing pain.

In a scream, she roared, "FUCKING HELL, IF YOU'RE GOING TO KILL ME, ACE, DO IT ALREADY!"

Ace shrieked a piercing laugh. Chance, curled on the floor, held the blade that was still stuck in her gut. She gasped. Blood spilled out of her mouth.

Ace held a knife in her hand, the extra one. Her fingers wrapped around the handle tightly. Ace bent down beside Chance. She gasped.

"Ooh, baby, you're not lookin' so good." Ace cooed. "Five years and you're still no good."

Chance held up her wrists, attempting to push away Ace. Chance's eyes widened painfully. The redness on her wrists glowed. Chance stared at Ace. Her grinning face was so close to hers.

"Where's your master now, Chance?" she hissed.

"Speak of the devil..."

His voice was deep...and angry.

"And he shall appear."

Ace gasped loudly, turning suddenly, to meet Bane's masked face. Bane pulled Ace by her hair and threw her across the room. She squealed loudly as she plummeted against it, slumping to the floor. Chance sighed achily, staring up at him in shock and relief. Bane went to get Ace. Joker was in front of Chance. He was leering at her.

"Wonder if he's your new squeeze. Is that him? Bit brawny, don't you think? Not really your type," said Joker. Chance hissed, "_Get away from me."_

Bane took Joker by his collar of his suit.

"Leave."

He tossed Joker across the other side of the room. Chance watched Joker end up on the other side with Ace. Ace got up to his feet then ran toward them. Bane reached out a hand and wrapped his hand around her throat. Chance raised a hand quietly.

"I can upturn the establishment on my own," said Bane angrily.

"Oh, my god—" Ace gasped, staring at him in horror. Her feet kicked in the air.

Chance shook her head.

"Bane...no...No..." Chance pleaded. Her fingers grabbed his boot imploringly. "Please...Please.."

Bane glanced at her. Then to Ace's face.

"Unbelievable. She doesn't deserve your compassion." Bane told her coldly, glaring at Ace.

"Please...Bane...Please..." Chance breathed.

Ace's fingers clawed at Bane's hand around her neck. She gasped for air.

Bane tossed Ace to the floor. Ace collided against Joker, who looked enraged. Bane bent down beside Chance, whose hand was shaking around the blade in her belly. She groaned painfully.

"Oh...I think...I'm dying..." Chance whispered.

Bane rearranged the understanding between Ace and Chance. Ace and Joker would go along with their original 'plan' and inform Chance on the regularity of chaos forming through the streets. Bane revealed to Chance that the reason why he had come back was to take her with him. Though it was agreed that because Bane had threatened Ace so abusively, there was no absolute way that she was going to join him after that. Ace and Joker didn't learn anything about the League of Shadows, nor did they learn the headquarters. All Bane wanted the two of them to know was that they just needed to terrorize the city.

He boarded the plane with her, bandaged alike, heading toward Italy.


	40. Reminiscent

The City in Pieces

Chapter Forty: Reminiscent

Flashing lights of all colors blurred in a confusing, unfocused shot of what Chance had remembered to be the refurbished warehouse she had foolishly left behind. While her focus disarrayed, going sideways, then up and down, her visage was impaled several times by fists with polished nails. A pearly, white grin never flickered as a woman with crimson red hair and light eyes pushed something sharp into Chance's belly. It twisted in her gut so easily, the process was so painful...A jolt of pain again as Ace twisted a blade just in the middle of two ribs. Then punches hit her body. Sharb jabs, non relenting. Ace's fingers claw viciously at Chance's face and throat. When Chance refuses to beg for death, Ace takes Chance's palm, hold one side by the base of her fingers, the other by her wrist, and snaps it against her knees; a surge of blinding pain. Chance's body weakens from agony. Then hits to the stomach. A wild man laughs in the background, Joker watches in full amusement. Then the blade seeps further into Chance's belly, so simply pushing in, like slipping into a warm bath. Blood. Crimson flows off her fingers that tighten around the handle.

_Just take it out. Pull. Damn it, pull!_

Chance suffers a terrible regret when she tugs; she leaves it in. Ace howls wildly and taunts her. Then Ace hits Chance's face so hard with her foot; the taste of a wet, coppery coin bursts from the inside of her cheek; and she spurts out drops of her own blood. As Ace takes out another knife, Chance relinquishes some hope of reviving.

_Go on, Ace. Do your fucking worst..._

But Chance's requittal reverie drops when she glances at her one wrist when she attempts to shield herself. A glow of red that isn't blood shines through her shirt. Then Ace gasps, then a scream from her. Chance's view is obscurred by a large man. Chance hears Ace cry out loud in a gutteral moan that is ceased by what Chance could understand as a strangle. Chance recognizes him from what she could see by his face.

_Bane..._

From what she can see, disarrayed by pain and unlevel head, she watches him tower over her. He says something dark and deadly through in that voice that restricts him behind the mask. He says it so calmly, but he's undone. Chance weakly tugs at his boot string. She whispers something to him, but she's not sure what she said. He strengthens his old on Ace, who utters nothing but incoherent gasps. Her legs kick. Chance shakes her head.

_Don't kill her. She hasn't killed me. Don't kill her, please. Bane...No..._

What she manages to gasp through searing pain apparently is understood. Bane tosses her away from him like a piece of paper. Joker's angry, she can see him throw himself at Bane, though he's laughing all the while. A bit mad, this time. Through in and out of consciousness, Chance watches Bane throw down with Ace and Joker. They're not like goons; they are consistent. Ace has more energy than ever. She's wild and furious, though from her way of attacking him, Chance gets the notion that Ace fears Bane. Then Chance's head falls weakly onto her extended arm. Her eyes close.

_I'm dying...I'm dying..._

Then the light started to pour in from everywhere. Chance's body gave a sudden jolt.

"AH!" Chance cried out, jerking her head up instantly. She instinctively reached for her stomach.

"Lie back down," said Bane from beside her.

Chance's movement awakened a full body anguish that left her exhausted. She remained still, gasping for some air. She realized that she was on...a couch. And moving. They were moving. Chance looked around. A large room: white walls, some carpet; two chairs, this couch, a table; a medicine cabinet and a sink. Television...and...a bar? Chance winced at the pain in her stomach.

Bane was beside her, sitting on a stool. Beside him were surgical instruments, rubbing alcohol, cotton swabs, stitches, and ice packs. Gauze and ace bandages lie beside the trays of aid. Chance glanced at her body. Ace had done her number on Chance. Five years of contempt and rage of what Ace had thought been sudden abandon had hit the roof: Ace's fury was true to word. Bruises, lacerations, cuts, and what were going to be fresh scars were scattered on Chance's body. Once more, she was in her bra and underwear, which this time didn't really concern her. Chance's hand was bandaged, in a made-cast from moldings. She could move her fingers, though she wouldn't, due to the pain in her palm. Chance's eyes fell to Bane's fingers, which were working on her stomach wound. Chance breathed with difficulty.

"Easy." Bane said in a rough voice. "You've suffered worse than this."

"By your hand..." Chance whispered. "Not by someone who wanted to kill me."

Bane didn't acknowledge her. His eyes watched her wound carefully. She admitted it to herself that she was very glad that Ace almost killed her: he wouldn't come. Actually, to ponder on that, why _did_ he return?

Chance gazed at him. He felt her eyes watching his face; he gave her a glance.

"What?" he said in a simple note.

"You came back..." Chance said. Her tone was affectionate.

"The matter of why is actually not what you think."

Chance smiled.

"I don't care why," she said sweetly.

Bane looked at her. His eyes told her that he did. Chance searched them. _Tell me why you came back,_ she thought, hoping that if she thought it, he might understand. He said nothing at first. Bane turned to work on her stomach. He had injected her with something in her torso. Chance felt nothing as he slid needles after needles into her skin to make stitches for her. His hands were bloody. Chance wondered about his silence. Did he come back to sack Gotham? No, because from what she could remember, he had instructed Ace to give Chance the heads up of what was going on.

"You were right," said Bane after a long while.

"What?" questioned Chance gently.

"Ace was very combative." Bane said shamelessly.

Chance stared at him. From what she had seen, he had been handling her well. Her eyes fell upon his arms out of curiosity. Then..._Ah..._Chance saw light marks on his biceps. Ace had done her work on him as well. Ace was sneaky; she had hid knives in her sleeves. At a point in time, Ace had sprouted them on Bane before pouncing on him. Had to give something: she had balls for trying to take him on. Chance's eyes glanced at the small bleeding.

"I might have taken your warnings lightly." Bane admitted, glancing into her eyes. "She was a challenge. But I managed to convince her that I didn't want her dead, a favor she owes to you."

"You were going to kill her." Chance said softly.

"It was going to be an impulsive bonus," said Bane remorselessly. "Ace is a mad dog on the Joker's leash. I only needed one of them." A pause. "I spared her out the understanding that she didn't kill you. She was going to do it." He glanced at her. "You knew this, didn't you?"

Chance nodded.

"Those people on the streets in Gotham, the corrupt menaces there that you've worked with, and especially your friend, Ace, don't deserve your compassion anymore. They've corrupted the society. Gotham must be left alone to die. Like we did in the past when Ra's al Ghul was alive." Bane sighed. He sat up straight when he finished on Chance's stomach.

"If you feel that my _compassion_ isn't with Gotham, then where does it belong?"

"With your fellow man," he indicated himself and the rest of, what Chance had to assume, were the members of the League of Shadows.

"Where does yours belong?" asked Chance boldly, carefully watching his reaction.

He gave her a look.

"Chance, I told you to deal with Ace on your own."

"And I was. Don't you recall? You intervened."

Bane stared at her.

"Chance."

"What?"

"Who knew that you were going to face Ace?" he asked quietly.

Chance looked confused. She skimmed through her conversations with the members at Gotham. Lick.

"My second-in-command, Lick." Chance muttered.

Bane sighed. Chance tried to find his eyes. He met hers. He was angry.

"Bane," said Chance lightly, "why did you come back?"

"Well, it doesn't matter now, but I suppose you need to know. In order to deal with the situation." Bane rose to his feet. He towered over her. "The reason that I returned to Gotham was that Talia informed me that one of the members of the League of Shadows had organized a union. According to her, she was given a tip that you were leading Ace to the sewers where she would uncover our base, which results in our lack of secrecy."

Chance stared at him.

Bane continued.

"I questioned Talia's source; she claims that your second-in-command said this. Lick, is it? Was he one of the men that had ill will toward Ace?"

Chance nodded. _Oh, my god...Lick, how could you?_

Bane made an inward, annoyed noise.

"He lied to you..." Chance whispered. She suddenly felt frightened again.

Bane looked at her.

"No, Chance. He lied to _you._" Bane said coldly.

"But he told Talia false information. Why would he do that?" Chance said, confused.

"I imagine that your second-in-command isn't wanting vengeance. Once Ace would be dead, he would leave. Did he argue with you when I was gone?"

"Yes." Chance admitted, feeling a bit foolish.

"An old student lost in rage..." Bane muttered. He turned to her. "Whenever you see him, excommunicate him. Perhaps _Batman _will do him a better one," he hissed the name, disgusted.

_What a pity to lose such a funny captain,_ Chance thought sadly.

She looked at Bane.

"Did you think I was going to help Ace?" she asked gently. "I'd never betray you."

"I never doubted you for an instant." Bane said honestly. "What made me come to Gotham, despite confidence, was Talia. She feared for your life. Questioned your ability to overcome your friend's taunts. She was right," he added, making Chance's blood boil. Bane stared at her. "Five years of training. Five years of broken bones and sword fights: you lose to _her._"

"I don't know what happened either, Sir," retorted Chance hotly. "She started mocking me."

"_'She called me a name',_" said Bane cockily. "Chance, why didn't you fight back?"

"I _was_ fighting back!" said Chance angrily. "It's because of you—!" She stopped herself.

"You are apportioning blame on my behalf." Bane said in a deep voice.

"Not your fault..." Chance muttered. She sighed.

Bane watched her.

Chance closed her eyes. She watched him pull Ace away from her again in the small seconds of memory. Bane sat down beside her.

"I stopped the fight, Chance," he said, "because you _weren't_ fighting back. You felt compassion for her; Ace _is_ truly lost. She would have killed you. You were dying."

"You told me to do it on my own."

"My men are everywhere._ Your _men are everywhere."

Bane snapped his fingers. A door to the cockpit opened. Chance watched a man step inside the room. At first, Chance was going to hit him. He wore a masked face. Chance stared. Bane beckoned him to come toward Chance. The goon took off his mask. Rocco smiled at her, sporting a bruised lip.

"I came back, questioned your whereabouts. Rocco infiltrated their warehouse," he said.

Chance stared at Bane.

Bane's eyes peaked from a sincere smile.

"Joker and Ace don't even know if _their _men are their men," he said.

Bane waved away Rocco who bowed slightly.

"Is Ace okay?" asked Chance softly.

Bane nodded.

"She's fine. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, you and Ace talked a bit. Though you had been drugged by morphine when she was able to talk to you. I'm not sure what you told her, but it's innocuous." He cleared his throat. "The situation, as I understand it, is that we lost track of Dr. Pavel. Talia's call distracted us. Though our evidence tells us that he was roaming Italy."

"Italy." Chance sighed. "That's a nice city."

Bane nodded.

"It's been progressing well, as I hear, since we burned it to the ground about fifty years ago."

Chance gave a nervous chuckle. Bane set a hand along her jaw line. She smiled. He tapped the underside of her chin.

"This seems familiar, doesn't it?" he said, indicating her half-naked body in its present condition.

Chance shrugged. She wore a dopey smile.

"In a way."

"I suppose it's different. I didn't cause this." Bane said shamelessly.

"No, it's the same."

Bane met her eyes.

"How is it?"

With her broken hand, she set it on his hand that lay on her shoulder. She smiled at him.

"You never left my side."


	41. In Italy

The City in Pieces

Chapter Forty-One: In Italy

Chance glanced out of the window of the airplane. Clouds surrounded her. However, she saw something else that peeked her interest more than the poofs of white in the sky. At first, she had thought that she was experiencing an episode from Twilight Zone, but as Chance looked harder, she knew that it was real. Men were swinging from tethers from the plane, hanging above the earth by harnesses; they swung openly, dangerously, through the sky. Chance glanced at Bane, who sat patiently beside her.

"Sir," she said slowly, "what exactly do you think we'll be encountering once we get to Italy?"

Bane looked at her. She indicated the window with a cock of her head.

"They're practicing air-climbing," said Bane casually.

"Air-climbing?" said Chance. "They're like hanging puppets, Bane."

"You never know what you're going to encounter until you do. I prepared to see anything." Bane said seriously.

Chance sighed. She glanced out the window again to watch the members of the League of Shadows bat through the air.

"Are you concerned about other planes in the air?" said Chance curiously.

"The route we're taking isn't a normally traveled route." Bane answered simply. "Lie back down. You need to rest."

Chance wordlessly obeyed.

When they landed, they hit an airport road less traveled by government issued aircraft. It was out of the way from the other skylines. Chance awoke when she felt movement beneath her. Bane slipped an arm under her legs; his other strong arm wrapped around her shoulders protectively, making certain to avoid Chance's stomach to split the stitches. She was beginning to like the gentle side of him, but she wouldn't refuse an opportunity to watch him batter another opponent. She felt his muscles flex beneath her; cool chills flicked down her spine.

Bane carried her through the compartment. A long door fell open to the entrancing beauty of Italy's close village houses, markets, malls, and vendor booths. Chance realized that the plane had landed on an unmarked site; the property was more likely owned by a rich staff, bought off the black market—in other words, government agents couldn't touch it. Chance glanced around the surrounding areas, from what she could make of it through her little visage in Bane's arms; she saw people all around her, but their attention was drawn to her.

"Bane, who are all these people? Tourists?" Chance asked quietly. She counted over forty people.

"No, Chance," chuckled Bane. He set her down tenderly on the ground; she gained composure, standing on her own, though she threaded an arm through his to help her stand. Chance's broken hand hung lazily off his forearm. Her other kneaded a beginning pain across her belly.

"Lieutenant, this is Italy's League of Shadows," said Bane in her ear.

Chance stared at the crowd in a different light. Over forty people here...

An Italian man approached her from the spectators. He was an older man, nearing his fifties. He wore horn-rimmed glasses; shining green eyes peered at her from behind them. A soft, white beard was forming around his wrinkling lips. He wore a Hawaiian shirt and shorts. The man looked at her.

"_(We are happy to learn that you recovered from Gotham),_" said the man seriously. Then before her, Chance watched him kneel at her feet. Then the forty or more others followed his suit. A wave of bows then bent knees on the ground. Chance saw over the closer crowd to count more heads. Not forty. Not fifty. Chance's mouth fell open at the massive congregation. She felt Bane's hand wrap around her waist.

"I wasn't jesting when I told you that you are world-renown," he said into her ear.

"(_You are well-respected here)," _said the Italian man, still knelt down; his eyes met her shocked ones. "_Lieutenant."_

The crowd echoed her title.

"_(It was by opportunity that you survived. We heard that you never gave up; you would __sacrificed your life to make sure that the League of Shadows was to be feared by the lowest of instincts.)," _he continued. "_(And we are proud to know that you have finally come back to Italy.)"_

Then Chance heard the familiar chant start from the back of the crowd and become louder, and more joined in.

"Deshi."

"Deshi."

"Basara."

"Basara."

"Deshi."

"Deshi."

"Deshi."

"Basara."

"Basara."

"Deshi, Deshi—"

"Basara, Basara!"

"Deshi, Deshi, Basara! Basara!"

Bane took Chance's enveloped arm and guided her through the crowd. The chants started to rise in higher volumes; clapping to the rhythm. Bane led Chance pass the beach where they landed, through the streets of Florence. Chance gazed around the city in awe. Such a city so beautiful had been re-made from a world undone, and Ra's al Ghul had created this. Chance wondered how well Gotham would look once it was burned to the ground. Nobody paid much attention to them as Chance and Bane made their way through the crowd of people; maybe the population had seen quite a few things in their time that Bane's appearance didn't seem so out of place.

But nevertheless, Bane led her through a dark alley. Chance wondered if they were going to go to Italy's sewers. She was incorrect when he pressed on a stone; it caved inside. Bane stuck his hand in the hole, then wordlessly felt along the inside ridges. He made a noise of annoyance. Then after a few minutes, he made a successful "_Ah,"_ and something clicked. Chance watched him thread his hand out of the hole. He pushed against the barrier. Chance watched the stone wall cave.

"Classic," said Chance, amused.

"Better than slipping into a rabbit hole," said Bane.

Bane pulled her inside, then pushed the wall back in.

"How long did it take for you to do that?" she asked, indicating the procedure to enter.

"It was already here." Bane said. "I have a man who had been working in Italy under my orders. He was the one who recruited those people outside. He also loaned the plane that carried you here."

"And what does he do that makes him untouchable?" asked Chance, hand on hip.

Bane's eyes tweaked at a secret smile.

"He's Florence, Italy's head minister of the church," said Bane slyly. "Highly respected by those and below the system." Then with little else, "And fucking rich."

Chance gave an amused chuckle.

"Come." Bane said. "I'll show you headquarters."

"It's not under a sewer, is it?" asked Chance hopefully.

"No."

"Where is it?"

"In the church."

Chance stared at him. Then a shrug.

"Right, because who needs God these days."

"He's not really helping anyone anyway, is he?" Bane retorted darkly.

He led the way. Chance quirked her eyebrows.

_Nice, Bane. Nice..._


	42. An Update

Author's Note: Thank you for all the reviews, they really helped me :) I had to bring Chance and Bane together again; I was missing him, myself. Anyway, I had been breezing through the beginning chapters and thought I had left some holes, so Bane gives Chance's the heads-up on what's going on now. Some _good_ chapters soon to come. :D Enjoy.

The City in Pieces

Chapter Forty-Two: An Update

Bane led Chance into the basement of the cathedral.

According to him, Catholicism was a major religion in Italy, which was a key point in how to get to headquarters in the first place. The head 'dojo' as Chance had put it rudely was in fact that Italian man who had met them outside of the plane. His name was rather lengthy, so she nicknamed him Apostle. Apostle was the Father to whom a sinner would confess their indiscretions and crimes in the covered booth just by the door. To speak first, one would open the confession by speaking the following phrase: "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned." In return of that phrase, the Father who would so willingly hear the plead of confession would allow the other party to speak. In order for Apostle to recognize any member of League of Shadows, Apostle would ask: "What are your sins?" Their answer would be: "I have murdered in the name of the leader, who will make the fire rise out of ashes." But Apostle, who had met Chance the first time ever, told her that when he asked her the question, she would reply:

"I am the messenger of the who wears the mask."

Apostle, though head of this cathedral, was a very passionate Minister who believed that he was doing God's work. Chance, who never really took faith in much anything, let alone any religion, had merely stared at Apostle who put it in laymen terms.

She would have to go into the booth, perform the signaled four point cross on the chest, then state the phrase. Apostle showed her the switch underneath the bench that he'd be seated on, revealing that when he pushed it, a door would open on her side. It would lead to a set of stairs, and whenever she felt the landing, another set of doors would be there. Opening them would lead her to the headquarters.

It was redundant for Apostle to ask Bane and Chance to do the required signal, so when Apostle stepped into his booth, he simply pushed the switch. Chance heard stone fall away. She glanced behind her to see Bane beckoning her. Chance pulled away the curtain. An opening. She wordlessly followed the path down the stairs, then as Apostle had told her, there were two doors. Chance noted the pursuing footsteps a few feet behind her, knowing they were Bane's. Chance opened the doors.

It was impressive how much could get done in a few months. In this case, according to Bane, he had this shelter done years ago. Chance was aware that Bane had only been in Gotham only under a year when she had met him.

The..._synagogue..._Chance assumed was a good word. It was actually very beautiful. It didn't hold the gloomy candle to Gotham's sewers. Dry floors; tapestries hung on walls; attractive décor. Chance saw the same monitors hooked up like the ones in the command center in Gotham. She noted several cots, fixed up like hanging hammocks. Chance glanced at Bane.

"Forty people can fit down here?" she questioned him, wondering just how much he could impress her.

"Well, we tried that," said Bane. "Not enough room." He beckoned her toward the monitors. "We actually wired several cameras together to make the surveillance more practical, but in Italy, the streets are always packed with tourists and early Italians." He sighed. "I believe we were close to finding Pavel, but we might as well start from scratch."

"Why do you need _me_ here?" asked Chance, feeling slightly out of place. "Fifty soldiers, snipers, ninjas, and a few good men—why me?"

Bane scoffed.

"I'm not spelling it out for you, Lieutenant."

"What, is it because I'm a woman?" asked Chance coarsely.

Bane shook his head.

"These men are very good soldiers." A pause. "Just terrible hunters."

"What, you want me to track Dr. Pavel? He's a physicist, a fucking brain genius!" Chance said incredulously. "Don't you think he'd have suspected _someone's _coming after him? He can't be a recluse with such an intelligent mind."

"Dr. Pavel," said Bane seriously, holding up said nuclear physicist's profile, "isn't a mad genius, Chance. Paranoia won't become the rich and healthy; and this man's Asian: he's going to be living forever." Bane threw the file at her; she caught it roughly with her good hand. "He has family. He won't move often."

Chance opened the profile.

"If you needed me, why didn't you tell me before you left the first time?"

"I was under the impression that he wouldn't be shifting countries."

"He's mobile?"

"Globally so, unfortunately." Bane answered coldly. "Apparently, the man who is capable of creating a bomb that can destroy Gotham wasn't eligible enough to be tracked consistently by Eastern Europe's capable hunters; he's off the face of the earth, as far as we're concerned. Lucky for me, though," said Bane, eyeing her.

Chance pondered for a moment, then shook her head.

"But when you left, you said that Pavel had agreed with your terms." She indicated his profile. "You said that he was going to meet you cross-country."

"My men arranged it." Bane said. "Pavel doesn't know me by person. We have to find him."

"In what degree?" questioned Chance slowly.

"Lieutenant?"

"I meant, how bad do we need to find him?" she clarified.

"I told you before: he's the only one who knows how to use the nuclear hydrator; so...badly."

Chance had questions, though.

"Does Daggett know that I'm not there?"

"Ah, I arranged that little detail with Ace."

Chance stared at him.

Bane showed her to a screen that was hidden by a tapestry. It was a projector. He handed Chance a remote in her good hand.

"This is a duel projection that is linked between the router in the warehouse where Ace and Joker are hiding out and in the lines drawn through the church, connected to a world-wide powerline. A click of a button"—he showed Chance the large, red, plastic switch—"can make the connection between the two systems.

"Daggett hasn't filed a request to the League of Shadows just yet. I'm certain that he is under the impression that he can still buy all of Wayne's shares before Bruce goes bankrupt. He has Ace's connection; he is under the impression that you flew to Italy to assist, which is correct.

"Ace agreed to be the messenger between Gotham and whichever country we should venture to, under the agreement that once we begin our work in Gotham, she goes free."

Chance turned to look at him, stunned.

Bane met her eyes, but didn't ponder her look. He continued.

"Daggett Industries is losing money, whether you choose to believe it or not. He'll want Wayne out of the way to gain the head of Enterprises, but he is not going to be able to be the President of the Board."

"So you're setting him up?" asked Chance, smiling.

"Yes." Bane confirmed. "The person we need on the board is Talia. She still resides in Gotham, maintaining her cover as Miranda Tate, fellow associate of Bruce. Daggett will want us to put him over her head, but what we need from him is his financial back-up and infrastructure. Your efforts in the sewers have been efficient: we're not moving fast enough, though."

"You told me that it would take at _least _six years to find Pavel." Chance said softly.

"At the rate that we're going, it will. Which is why I needed you," added Bane discreetly.

Chance licked her lips.

"You said Ace has contact with us?"

"She does." Bane said. "At any point in time should the circumstances in the city change, she will notify us. From what I've been told by her in the few hours that you were unconscious while on the plane, Harvey Dent has put in an appointment for his surgery. He took your persuasion kindly. Well done," he said proudly.

"It wasn't hard," said Chance gently. "And Rachel Dawes?"

"Ace didn't say anything about her. It's good enough to know that she will be looking into it. I wouldn't worry so much on their end of the bargain. From what I saw, Ace and Joker can perform their own acts and succeed. As I said before, Ace _was _a fighter." Bane sighed.

"So now we're trying to fnd Pavel? That's the update?" clarified Chance, suddenly exhausted.

"That's what we're trying to do, yes."

Chance observed the room.

"How did you get so much accomplished?"

Bane smiled from behind his mask.

"With friends like these," he indicated the surrounding soldiers in military fatigues, "it's surprising that we haven't conquered the world."


	43. What's in a Weakness?

Author Note: All right, for you romance-lovers, here's to you. Thought I was missing some kind of connection between Bane and Chance, and after all, Italy is quite the place for connection. So to my readers who have stuck with Chance and Bane throughout, have one on me, this one is for you :D

The City in Pieces

Chapter Forty-Three: What's in a Weakness?

Florence was quite a change from Gotham, and if it was up to her, Chance would have loved to stay in Italy. Even at night, Italy looked like the romantic getaway. The open sky, liberated from a natural pollution, held out freedom by a moonlit hand, and anyone could take it if they wished it. The moon was bright and full in the sky, and although the clouds hid around it, they couldn't mask it. The city was lit up by candles in the town square; even at such a dark time of the night, people still wandered the streets, lovers walking hand in hand along the cobblestone streets. The fountain in town square rushed water from a statue of a stone nymph being cradled by a strong prince; the water was being gushed from the lips of the still lovers.

From the balcony of the synagogue's tower, Chance gazed at the city with awe. Such a romantic spot for anyone, tourists alike. She thought it was still remarkable how little the crowds reacted when Bane walked through the town with little ado. They might have been well-aquainted with him; either that, or those who passed him already knew that he was part of an important cult.

Chance was curious about how well he was known in Europe. Once, he had told her that he was a wanted man in Europe, while in Gotham, he was merely unknown by the populace. Chance considered that the American CIA agents were trying to search for him: while he was probably a fly on the wall in Gotham, the odds that no one knew who he was in America itself was improbable. And even if he did show himself to Gotham, the crowd would react as if they had never seen an intimidating life form.

Chance would have figured that by now, what with all the high-class criminals running the streets or the murders that were passed out in that city like candy on Halloween, everyone would assume that a big-time mercenary wasn't going to be like good news or anything.

_But that's why Gotham is at an all-time low,_ thought Chance, leaning over the balcony rail, _too much ignorance and arrogance..._A thought. _Wonder if pride is a weakness..._She thought of Bruce, then shook her head._ Quite frankly, I prefer stupidity._

Chance hadn't really pondered about the true identity of Batman. Bruce Wayne. Now, _there_ was a story to tell the children. The high-time billionaire, owner of Wayne Enterprises, manor-owner, who owns like fifteen cars in his garage and probably is the shareholder of sixteen hotels—is the masked man who dresses in a cape and storms the city to deliver justice to those less fortunate. Chance could guess that since he had always had his way in life, the loss of his parents might have pushed him over the edge, but it _was _just his parents. He didn't lose his precious butler, his friends are still alive. He still has his money—_for now,_ thought Chance with a lucid grin. Bruce Wayne was quite a catch—he could get any girl he desired, any hooker he wanted to fuck—or men...Chance quirked an eyebrow. _Oh, and it would be the lucky girl's luck if he ended up being gay._

Parading around like some flying rodent...

And Daggett. Daggett, Daggett, Daggett...he was a character, too. She hadn't exchanged fifteen words with the wealthy vagabond, mostly because she had tried to avoid it in the past. He was a shady business man. Chance informed him long ago that she worked with some "very important people". Chance recollected that it was probably only to Daggett that she actually referred to her superior by the name of 'Bane'. With all the other bosses that she came in contact with, she always referred to Bane as a commander with no name, just to keep the relationship vague and discreet. But, as it would be, Bane had told Chance that he wanted Daggett to know that he was in charge of the operation. That didn't make her like the wealthy idiot any more than she liked caviar. Daggett and Miranda Tate might have been cohorts at one point; Talia and Bane apparently had already known who he was and what he did for a living, so Talia's being in Gotham was probably more than, what...ten years.

_Ten years, Talia, you have put into Gotham,_ thought Chance, sighing, _just to watch it burn..._

Ace might have been so lucky to stay alive as well. Chance had concerned herself with Ace's safety while Bane was attempting to crush her windpipe. It was by a stroke of compassion for an old friend's sake that Chance had wanted Bane to release Ace, and that might have been the only thing that saved the bitch's life. No doubt that Ace would ever apologize. Chance believed, for an instant, that her old ally would have killed her if Bane hadn't interrupted. But, for what she could understand, Chance couldn't blame Ace. Ace acted out of a paranoid assumption that Chance had arrived to fulfill a promise, and Ace wasn't going to let it happen. She did it out of love and loyalty for her Joker, and if love was the reason for why Chance would die...

"Chance..." Bane's deep voice was behind her.

Then she would die willingly...

Chance turned around. She observed Bane's face and body. He looked weary, which was a different aspect of him that she hadn't seen in quite a while, or at all. He had one of his hands on the door that led to the outside. Maybe he had been trying to find her through the cathedral. This whole church was a maze, anyway. His wounds on his arms that Ace had done to him were fading. He could heal quickly. His eyes were tired.

"You look exhausted, Sir." Chance concluded, leaning her back against the railing. "It's been a long day. I thought you were sleeping."

"I haven't gone to bed yet." Bane told her. "How is your hand?"

Chance held her once broken hand up to the moon light and flexed her fingers successfully.

"You healed in a day?" Bane asked skeptically.

"No." Chance sighed. She smiled. "I had Rocco crack the bones back into place." A beat. "Seiously."

"You should have let it heal." Bane chastised, stepping forward.

"It would have taken a month." Chance retorted calmly. He stood in front of her. Bane took her uninjured fingers in his hand, observing each ligament. Chance watched his eyes concentrate on her bones. Her fingertips brushed against the heel of his palm. Bane inspected each bone, pulling at her fingers firmly, making certain that Rocco hadn't injured her further.

"Did it hurt?" he asked after a pause.

"No." Chance answered honestly.

"No?" he sounded doubtful.

"Not everything is as painful as it used to be." Chance explained.

"Not everything is as it was when you first came to me," said Bane in a different tone.

Chance stared at him. _Was he trying to be...romantic?_

"Bane, can I ask you something?"

He nodded.

"When you stopped Ace from killing me, when you were going to kill _her_, why were you going to go against your orders?" Chance asked sternly. He said nothing, but continued to inspect her digits. "You told me to keep her alive, to recruit her. But I watched you, I heard you. You said that you wouldn't need her for the future. Why were you going to kill her?"

"I imagine," said Bane quietly, "that you already know the answer to that."

"I want you to tell me," said Chance boldly.

He met her eyes. They were on fire.

"You were angry." Chance said. She pulled her hand away from him. "You weren't doing a duty to the League of Shadows. Sir, you were furious. I watched you, I saw you. You were going to abandon anything to get her out of the way. She was frightened, I heard her voice. And you made your point for her to stop attacking me, yet you were choking her.

"Why kill her, Bane?"

"I don't have to tell you that you're stepping over boundaries again." Bane warned.

"Stepping over boundaries..." Chance searched his face for some understanding. "I've been honest with you. You know what pulls me down, you know what makes me furious. I reacted badly to Ace's taunts. She was teasing me about you," she added, hands on hips. "I know my weaknesses—it's my intellectual vanity, and the fact that you and I slept together."

"So you want to know what can push me down? Do you think that once you figure this out, it will make everything clear?" Bane shook his head. "A bit melodramatic, don't you think?"

"I've known you for five years, probably a sixth one coming up." Chance said. Then she added, "Talia knows your weakness, doesn't she?"

"We aren't going to make this into a jealousy issue."

"It's not jealousy. You're old friends," said Chance. She was at least glad that he wasn't like a school boy, trying to walk away from a bad conversation leading to a more severe one.

"We are." Bane said. Chance could tell that he knew what her point was, but she expected that he was waiting for the right moment to tell her what he wanted to tell her.

"Bane, confess." Chance said softly.

He stared at her.

"I'm not sure that I like this side of you," he said.

"Would you rather have me become that sado-masochist?" asked Chance, shrugging her shoulders. "Granted, we'd have more fun that way, but I want to understand something first." She approached him. "Tell me. If I say that I was sorry for making you rescue me last night, would you have me stay quiet?" She smiled. "I'm not sorry for that. I was glad when you came.

"But you told me that as long as the destiny of Ra's al Ghul is fulfilled, all of us, even me, are expendable. Why save me?"

Bane sighed behind his mask.

"Talia and I have discussed this before, and it is no shock to either of us that it happened," he told Chance. "You shouldn't apologize for weakness. It's a sign of it. You very well should have died last night, but you are too valuable to let die."

"I'm not apologizing for weakness." Chance said. She watched him. "Are you?"

He stayed quiet. She waited for an answer. Bane sighed. Chance backed up slightly when he drew a hand into his pocket and reached for something. When she saw that he was holding a syringe, she wordlessly questioned him. She said nothing, though, quite curious to know what exactly he was doing. To her mild surprise, he took the syringe needle, inserted it painlessly into shoulder, and waited for a few minutes.

Chance watched his hands do something behind his head. Then to her astonishment, she realized what he was doing.

"Bane...?"

He was taking off his mask.

Chance didn't know if she was overcome with shock or horror as he unhooked the straps from around his head. When he lowered it from his face, she saw that his face was actually not that bad underneath his mask. The reparation surgery that he had undergone by the doctor when he was in his own prison had been rather adequate; he looked like a regular man. She imagined though, that the pain that Bane had felt through the precision was enough to make him writhe in the dark. And Ra's al Ghul had freed him from his agony by giving him the mask. Chance stared at him. He was handsome in every way; with or without his mask, the mercenary was very attractive. Chance stared at him; she was actually a bit put off by his taking his helpful gear from his face.

"What are you doing?" she said, aghast.

Bane took her arm and pulled her to him. To Chance's surprise, then pleasure, he pulled her from a foot away from him into a magnanimous kiss. Chance inhaled, both from shock and instinct. She felt her knees weaken; he must have sensed it as well, for his hands caught her around her waist. Chance wrapped her hands around his neck, embracing him when she finally regained some strength.

He was, no doubt, the greatest 'conquest' that Chance had ever had, though this time, her romantic involvment with this ally was not just a fling or some simple relationship. Chance's heart beat twice as fast, and her stomach tossed several times. She was truly lost, not in endeavor, but lost in a world where she had believed that a man was only a man if he could get a girl into his bed. Bane proved her wrong once more.

Chance understood perfectly well. Anger was never a weakness for Bane. The only weakness that could pull him down was the woman he had in his arms.

Italy had the stereotype of being a romantic getaway. So, so true.


	44. No Words

The City in Pieces

Chapter Forty-Four: No Words

Bane had injected himself with the medicine he breathed through his mask. Chance knew the effects, for she had felt it many a time when he had given it to her during her training: the sensation of pleasure, loss of pain and agony, just _greatness. _Owing to the fact that the masks were off (Bane's literal, Chance's facade), Bane and Chance took the opportunity to take advantage of the skylight 'penthouse' at the top tower of the synagogue. Apostle, in the past, would rent the room out to _new_ lovers when the mood was right after marriage, but since Apostle had the idea that the commander and the Lieutenant were an item, he had no say in the matter to let them go up there and make the penthouse their own quarters.

Chance's feelings for Bane hadn't changed, but had enhanced. She didn't feel so hard-on for him as she had felt the last few times they had slept together; instead, she felt attracted to him on another level. Bane hadn't turned soft. God knows he was still the man who had pulverized her the day they met, and still was the person that would have killed her easily during those training session. Hell, no, Bane was not a soft villain. Chance had to remember that as Bane took her body in his arms, laid her out on the bed, and hovered over her. She was small beneath him as she would constantly be reminded. He could crush her if he wanted to; he could kill her if he so desired.

That bit of him that could make him such a stone-cold killer—_that _was why Bane could instill some fear in Chance, despite how much she could, admittedly, say that she loved him. His size could overpower her. As if she could outrun him—his speed was intoxicating. And as if she could try to stay away; he proved that to her during his days that he was absent from Gotham. She wanted him more than anything; everything about him invited her in—from the start of their alliance, she was struck by him.

The drug that he injected into his body sustained his pain, and it kept it at bay. The fact that his mouth was applicable to her made her body write beneath him. Bane held her hands to her side, descending his mouth along her neck. He left hot trails around her collarbone; a stinging heat hit home between Chance's legs, and she uttered his name in soft moan. He moved her up the bed sheets, setting his body against her, only to keep her legs apart. His fingers found her shirt and pulled the fabric up her torso. Her free hand pulled at her shirt; he watched her pull it off her head and toss it over the bed.

Bane's fingers found the stitched wound on her belly. Ace's doing. Chance smiled serenely.

"It doesn't hurt." Chance told him.

He let her hands free. Chance pawed his shoulders, wrapped her legs around his waist, and kissed him imploringly. With her limbs trying to entangle him, Bane struggled to regain some footing on the ground. Chance chuckled slightly when she managed to keep him on the bed. She could tell that he was wanting her too. She licked his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. He met her eyes; they were blazing.

He took her legs in a vice-like grip and wrenched them apart. She gasped as she flopped back onto the mattress. He unbuttoned her jeans; before she could react, he was pulling them off her body. She clung to the mattress to stop herself from sliding toward him. Chance was amazed just how fast he was undressing her. Looks like she hadn't been the only one craving. His eyes watched her reaction as he pulled her underwear down her legs. Chance's stomach dropped when he lowered his head to her abdomen and pressed his lips to her inner thigh. Chance uttered a breathless hope. Bane's eyes watched her face as his lips followed a trail along her inner thigh, along the start of her pelvis, to her right thigh. He breathed. Chance felt the burning begin to escalate, and for a moment, it actually pained her.

A heated liquid left her cavity. She heard Bane say something, but she wasn't sure what it was. His fingers tapped against her heated sex teasingly. Her hips bucked at his touch. Chance's fingernails embedded deeply into the sheets beneath her body; he saw the threads start to rip apart.

Bane's lips caressed her throbbing pain; the touch sent her hips bucking against his mouth. He gripped her thighs to hold to her still. Chance's fingers held fast on his hands. He felt her nails dig into his knuckles. Bane slipped his tongue inside her walls, and Chance was gone. Restrained as she was, Chance managed to move against his exploring tongue. Sensations hit her. She moaned loudly as he pushed her over the edge. Chance whimpered as he brought her closer to orgasm. The deeper he pushed through, the harder it was to restrain her legs from closing out of pleasure.

Instead of letting her climax, he teased her. He flicked his tongue along the outside skirts of her clit, only to slip into her again. She cried out in frustration, though at the same time, she reveled in it. The suspense was building, and whenever she would come, it would hit her. Chance squirmed in his grips. Her fingernails clawed his hands that kept her straight.

"Sir..." she breathed.

"What?" he said in his deep voice against her skin. The vibrato in his voice stirred against her heated mound; it intensified the sensation.

"Please..."

She uttered her request. He flicked his tongue along her erected mound.

"Say it louder."

Her legs jolted under his grip.

"Fuck. Me." Chance said clearly.

Bane rose to his feet. She watched him pull down his pants and boxers. He was fully erect when he hovered over her. Chance grinned at him. Without any permission, he sheathed himself within her wanton walls. Chance yelped out surprise and pain, then the pain fell away to be replaced by pleasure. A friction sanctioned a dire orgasm. Bane kissed her, this time, more hungrily. Chance moaned into his kiss. She clenched, her legs bent against his waist like a hungry crab's claw. Bane's eyes squinted; he uttered a moan of his own; the sound sent chills down Chance's back.

He brought her to climax, at which point he hammered her into the bed, bringing speed and endurance to court; he rode her orgasm deliciously—Chance seized beneath him in a squirming hit; he almost lost his hold above her when her walls tightened around him. When her body relaxed in a post-orgasmic tension, he rolled off her, breathing loudly beside her. Chance glanced at him. She smiled slightly.

He watched her slide off the mattress. Prowling the room in her full naked form, she bent down to grab something off the desk. Chance appeared before him. He handed the object to him. His mask.

"Put it back on, Bane," said Chance gently.

He took it from her. Latching the straps accordingly, breathing in, he met her eyes.

"You didn't have to do that for me," said Chance quietly, sitting beside him.

Once he set the mask on, he made a chuckle.

"Would you have believed me if I simply _said_ that you are the reason that I came back?"

Chance gazed at him. She laid back on the bed.

"I'm sure that I would have believed you." Chance assured him.

Bane looked at her.

"Though I have to ask," said Chance calmly.

"What?"

She smiled.

"How do you eat?"


	45. Girl Talk

The City in Pieces

Chapter Forty-Five: Girl Talk

The night sky was stripped of clouds, only stars blanketed the midnight blue, seen through the open roof. Shades could drawn over the skylight if the clouds would thicken and start to precipitate, but there was no sign of rain. Chance stared up at the sky, wrapped in Bane's arms as he fell into a deep slumber. Chance's eyes hadn't grown tired, though she felt no desire to move from his embrace. She smiled because she was, for once, truly happy about where she was. Italy had that effect on anyone; a person could figure out what they wanted most when they were away for a while, and it seemed that she had figured out what she wanted. Chance wanted belonging, which could explain why all her other alliances, and even working alone, hadn't granted her solace. The League of Shadows wasn't a crude corporation or what she had once called a cult; in a way, everyone was like family, but they could understand that as long the cause was still strong, every one of them were expendable. But apparently, according to Bane, Chance was not expendable.

She smiled about that too. Chance gazed at the stars, wondering if Ace, too, had discovered what she was wanting. Joker could always grant her freedom—not just in free roam, but in spirit as well. Though it might have been hard to tell when Chance was near Joker, she had inkling that he was probably very amusing in the right company. What Chance had seen of Joker probably wasn't what Ace saw in him. To Chance, he was some loose cannon, albeit a well-dressed one, but Ace might have thought he was something that the world needed. More laughter, less seriousness.

Chance's mind raced, wondering how Ace was doing.

Then she decided to go down to the basement to try out the remote control projector below. Bane had said that the projector was going to be the portal between she and Ace. Maybe if they actually spoke to one another without trying to kill someone, some grudges could rub away, and they might have something left of a failed friendship.

Chance upturned her head to Bane's chin, kissed him mildly, then slowly slid out of his grip with some difficulty. He resolved the loss of the body from his arms by turning on his side; a heavy inhale, then a shallow exhale, he returned to his dreams. Chance dressed herself in a long-sleeve shirt and jeans, then descended the staircases. She entered the actual synagogue, seeing some people that she didn't recognize. The masses were coming early on in the morning to confession, which Chance assumed that the program could be any time of the day, while Mass was probably on Sunday. She didn't try to figure it out. Religion was never her cup of tea, anyway.

Chance trotted off to the confession booth, remembering the procedure. She knocked on the window. She said her line,

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

Apostle's voice answered,

"What are your sins, my daughter?"

"I am the Messenger of the one of who wears the mask," said Chance accordingly, staring at the window promptly. A silence daunted the booth. Then Apostle clicked the switch.

"Welcome, Lieutenant," said Apostle.

Chance glanced beside her where the door fell out like a small explosion of stone, then she entered; the door composed itself, resolving as if it had never been bashed. Chance followed the staircase. She opened the double doors. The headquarters were filled with sleeping men; Chance didn't pay heed to them as she strode leisurely through the room. Chance clicked the red button the remote and sat on the desk, watching images appear before her, so life-like and three-dimensional.

The camera, or what Chance assumed was the camera, focused on a room that vibrant of color. Chance recognized it as the room that Chance had entered after she had slipped through that ridiculously long funnel. The details that gave it away were the two throne chairs, but nobody occupied them. Chance watched patiently as a figure in a black hood crossed the screen. The long, bare legs, and the pointed fingers in black gloves were giveaways of Ace's agile shape. Ace placed what Chance assumed were groceries, probably of a morbid measure, on the ground. Right on target, Chance watched the hood fly back, and Ace was smirking at the camera.

"Well, well, well," said Ace with a low voice. She threw off the robe-looking attire to show off a stunning cocktail dress. "Look at what we have here." Ace approached the screen. "You're looking swell, Chance. How's the...?" she indicated Chance's stomach wound knowingly with a grin.

"It's fine." Chance answered with a forced smile.

"You look like you're glowing a bit," commented Ace, hands on hips. "Pretty weird for a recovery girl." A realization. "Did you have sex again?" Chance remained quiet. "Is it with that big guy? He's quite a _beast,_" she clicked her tongue.

Chance stared at her.

"Ace."

At her tone, Ace quirked her eyebrows; she was amused. Ace walked closer. Her face and shoulders were the only things that Chance could see on the big screen. Close up, Ace's beauty was fringed with madness. Chance could tell that she had been influenced by Joker's humor and insanity. Although Ace's features could resemble a beautiful waitress in a dress, her eyes were wide and her lips constantly resisted the need to grin. Her make-up was slightly askew. Ace grinned at Chance.

"How's the hand?" Ace said shrewdly.

"I had a friend pop it back into place," Chance retorted, wiggling her fingers painlessly.

"Ooh, way to go." Ace's tone dripped with sarcasm. "You know, you're gone for five years, and I don't hear a single thing from you. You couldnt' have expected me to do a courtesy because the _Lieutenant,_" she moved her head cockily, "came to call on Mr. J and me." Her face fell from crude happiness. "You were a bitch for telling me that we couldn't be friends."

Chance merely listened.

Ace continued, "A guy breaks your heart and you're the one who leaves? You'd have done better to kill the fuck yourself instead of going away all this time. That bad, Chance? That fucking DA hurt you _that _bad?"

"I didn't have much of a choice to say anything the first year," said Chance controllably. "I was held under with a broken body."

Ace chuckled mirthlessly.

"By _him?_ That masked man? _Bane?_" Ace shook her head. "I let Mr. J slap me around 'cause I _like_ it," remarked Ace with a smirk. "Training consists of being abused like that? Oh, Chance, you've been brainwashed."

"I haven't been brainwashed, Ace, I've been shown a different path."

"A lunatic's rant," remarked Ace coldly. A pause between the both of them. "I gotta hand it to you, sweetie; he _is_ quite a man, though." Her head moved; Chance guessed that Ace was trying to see more of the lair. "And where are _you_ holding up?"

"I can't tell you," said Chance with a smile.

"Oooh, secrets." Ace whispered, covering her eyes. She chuckled at her joke. Ace parted her fingers. When Chance didn't respond, she lowered her hand. "Okay, Chance, what are you and your masked lover planning to do, Chance? Take control of Gotham? With his muscles, he'd have the mayor kicking his feet in the air."

"You do your job, I'll do mine." Chance said. "You told Bane that you wanted a getaway ride before we do our bit, and that's the deal."

Ace shrugged.

"Whatever." She sighed. "What do you want, Chance?"

"Have you heard anything?" asked Chance gently.

"Well, the bosses are going down. Maroni's men are getting caught; he's joined up with the Chechen and Gambol, and this head guy name Lau, but the mob is just playing with fire. Batman's getting close on them, so they're sheltering." Ace reported. She observed her nails casually. "Nothing from Daggett, yet."

"When you _do_ find something out..."

"I'll let you know," Ace said in a sing-song voice. "Ta-ta." She clicked a button on her remote and the screen went dark.

_Wow..._Chance turned her back to the screen. _She's insane..._


	46. Location, Location, Location

Author's Note: Thanks again for all my reviews :) I hope some of you are getting to like Ace; she's very important to the future. Here we go. :D

City in Pieces

Chapter Forty-Six: Location, Location, Location

Leonide Pavel had family in Italy, Chance had figured out after being there for a month. She had been searching through papers, studying his image for three straight hours: the contours of his wrinkles, the exact color of his slanted eyes; his hair color; face shape; nose length; ear shells; even the image of his body. Chance had strode through the streets of busy Florence, gazing at the men and women whom all walked openly around her: whether they knew who she was or if she was a simply street walker, she didn't know. They greeted her warmly as if she was a tourist then went on her way. Chance had stopped by the market, grabbed a mocha latte, then sat in a restaurant, observing features.

Chance matched three people that could match Pavel's hereditary. A rather good-looking woman had passed her table, greeting cheerfully, and had two children with her: one girl and one boy, nearing seven-years-old for each other. The mother, of course, beared no resemblance—_Because if she did, my _God—Chance thought, slightly puking in her mouth. The girl matched her mother's appearance almost precisely; the boy, though, was the split image of Leonid Pavel. Chance thanked the local vendor who had given her the coffee then followed the family through the streets.

She spied on them constantly. A walk to the river, enjoying the breeze; the kids watched fish flop in the water while the mother, by now assuming that was Mrs. Pavel, gossiped to a fellow mother. Then to a restaurant. Chance followed them to a nice little house on the outskirts of Florence's city. It was like a house in the 50's down to the pleasant, picket fence in the front yard and a dog.

Chance returned to the church with a large smile on her. The family was here, so Pavel couldn't be too far away. She had to wonder if the doctor was in that house. Unless he was else where. Chance approached the confession booth and sat on the bench. She knocked on the window.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," said Chance enthusiastically. There was a pause. Chance realized what this must have sounded like. Nothing like a cheerful sinner. Enthusiastic about the confessions and all..._Wow..._

"What are your sins, my daughter?" asked Apostle.

"I am the Messenger of the one who wears the mask," Chance answered, dialing it down. Apostle clicked the button and Chance entered through the door. Chance descended the stairs; she looked around the basement of the synagogue, expecting Bane. He was there, to her expectation. Chance had walked in on him doing some push-ups. A slight, satisfied smirk appeared on her pretty face. For the last four weeks, she had nothing to show for her hunting. Every weekend she had reported to him that she was just on the verge of knowing the location to the family, and now she was hot with anticipation. Chance observed him. Then she strode full bodily into the room. Bane must have caught her footsteps. He stopped, hovering on his strong arms. Chance envisioned herself beneath him. She licked her teeth with some thought, saving _that_ for later. He glanced at her. Chance smiled at him.

His eyes channeled question.

"You look nice," he said.

Chance's smile flickered into a irresistible grin. She bent down beside him. He was a still board, positioned on a cool balance on his arms, glancing at her legs first, followed her curves; he met her eyes.

Pronouncing the words with a little tease, she said triumphantly,

"I found them."

Bane uttered an amused chuckle. He pushed off the ground to perch on his knees. Chance rose to her feet and plopped herself on the office desk. He stood up. Bane strode toward him and stood in front of her. He turned to the agents of shadow still lingering in the room with them.

"Leave us."

They bowed then left quietly. Chance gazed at her commander with a larger grin. He raised a hand to her chin and grasped it between two fingers.

"You found them?" he said, setting his other hand on one of her thighs.

"Yes," said Chance certainly.

"After all these weeks?"

"I told you that it would take some time," assured Chance gingerly. "Florence is a large place to go searching for people I've never seen."

"What makes you think," he asked with a slight hint of uncertainty—his hand around her chin slipped along her jaw, "that you found Pavel's family?" Chance's stomach dropped from anxiety and pleasure; he was somehow ominous. Something in his touch told her that he was doubting. Chance closed her eyes.

"How," his voice was low, "do you know that they are his? The mother has no resemblance to him, how do you know she's his lover? Hm?"

"She caters to the children like her own; her son is the splitting image of Leonide Pavel; I've studied his features. I've studied _them_ for a whole month before telling you," she said sweetly. Chance opened her eyes to see his own brooding along her body.

Chance moved her body along the desk just half an inch, but it made the point. He stared at her.

"You're still frightened of me, aren't you?" Bane said softly.

"Hmm," sighed Chance, "just a little..."

"Why?"

"Does it matter?" Chance retorted.

"No." Bane told her in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Then who's to blame," whispered Chance with a shrug of her shoulders. "I found them, so Pavel can't be to far." A smirk. She spoke normally, "They live on the outskirts in a peaceful fifties house with a picket fence and a dog in the front yard. Sir."

He wrapped his hands around her waist.

"If he agreed to your terms," questioned Chance, "why does the smart doctor hide?"

"We're known in Europe, he knows of us," said Bane. "Frightened, merely. You can calm him down once we find him."

"Then what will happen?" Chance asked, "Should I coddle him?"

"You're mocking the operation, aren't you?" Bane said in a bored voice.

Chance kissed his cheek.

"Habit, Sir." Chance said sweetly.

"Track them," said Bane, "and when you find the right moment, question them."

"Direct contact, sir?" questioned Chance, gazing at him with the inquiring look.

"Civil or unrest," he answered. "I don't care how you do it; just get me Pavel."

He smacked her cheek firmly; she jumped. It wasn't a cruel strike, nor was it a cute tap like he did under her chin. Chance took it as a rough sign of endearment, much like how their first two encounters were hard core, though they always ended up intimate. Chance watched him turn his back on her; Chance raised her legs and grabbed him around the waist, pulling him back.

"Hm, what have _you_ been doing while I was on the surface, Bane?" she asked, lowering her legs away from him when he turned to meet her eyes once more. He set his hands on the desk.

"Organizing."

"Huh, what organization?" she scoffed, indicating the file cabinets, a result of perfection. "Any more organizing, and you'll be putting multi-colored labels on the back of white sticky notes, love," remarked Chance, miming the scrutiny of an OCD secretary. He took her wrists in his hands and held at her side.

"Organizing," he continued his apparent unfinished sentence, "Gotham's fall."

"Oh, is that it?" sighed Chance. She flexed her fingers in his grip. "Specificity is sort of your thing, isn't it? Details, Sir."

"You've spoken to Ace, haven't you?"

"A month ago, why?"

"Her _thing,_" he coined her street phrase, "is that taunting mimic of calling her enemies pet names; you hardly name me as such. That"—he pulled up her hands in the air—"and you're fucking with me."

"I'm jesting," said Chance at ease. He released her hands. Chance set her fingers along his shoulders. "Ace told me that the mob is at a panic; they're purging their sums together, making their amounts bulge so that the police can't find it." Chance smirked. "They're frightened that they're being caught."

"And why should they be calm," retorted Bane.

"You've got plans there, too." Chance assumed. "Talia's doing?"

"She's organizing the League there to start collected empty oil drums."

Chance nodded. The drums were a large part of Bane's master plan.

Bane sighed.

"If we do all our parts, you have no need to worry about the operation falling apart." Bane patted her hand on his shoulder. "Get it?"

"Got it," replied Chance. She gazed at him. He stared at her.

"What?"

"I...Nothing..." Chance shook her head. "It can wait."


	47. If

Author's Note: Short chapter, but it explains what she was thinking about :)

City in Pieces

Chapter Forty-Seven: If...

Bane was the leader of the League of Shadows. He was like the risen idol since Ra's al Ghul's death. Chance never had the pleasure of meeting the founder; Bane was the only person she really knew that had the passion. The question that impeded her mind was this: if something should happen to Bane, would she have to lead the rebellion against Gotham's streets? Could she even gather the understanding that Bane, too, was expendable, as long as Gotham's city was pillaged to hell? Chance doubted it, only because she knew that she was incredibly attached to him. He made her life worth living. To think that one day he would no longer exist gave Chance a momentary heartbreak. She doubted that would be able to push past it. And she felt sad for the person who would kill him; odds were against them.

Sitting in a patio chair across the family that Chance had watched for a month, she gazed at the people around her, putting their faces on a man with a gun who could kill her lover. Every one of them seemed possible, but Chance bore in mind that this _was_ Italy: a beautiful romantic getaway _here,_ but in other parts of the country, this was Sicilian bosses and crime lords did their deeds. Chance wondered if the person who wanted Bane dead would be in Italy. Of course, on a wide scale such as almost everyone in Europe, those who wanted Bane dead was a long list. Just look in the phone book.

Chance sighed. She sipped a milk shake; it was sweating in a hot sun.

Bane would want her to continue the League of Shadows, become the leader, ruling in his stead, but she wondered if she had the heart to do it right after his death. Chance considered only for a minute about making a deal with Ace behind his back. She simply breezed over the details of the arrangement. If for some reason the plans failed, if Batman intervened, if Bane should die, and the league failed her, Ace would come to Chance's aide and bring about Gotham's destruction...It was a good plan, but at this rate, nothing was for certain...Chance drank her milkshake. It was a good plan...


	48. Hunter Beware

City in Pieces

Chapter Forty-Eight: Hunter Beware

Chance followed Bane's orders with lax. Once more, she went to the restaurant that she visited regularly where she would see the family again. She took a seat at an open bar, dressed in a knee-high skirt, heels, and a dashing blouse, though nothing that could draw wanted attention. Her eyes caught the bartender, who shuffled toward her; he was skinny, tanned, and his head was graying. He might have been well in his forties, but once he smiled at her, his age shrank to thirty. He didn't look her over, but looked straight into her eyes, and questioned her preferences. She gave him her regular, which was a pizzone and a diet coke with a glass of vodka on the side. Chance turned away from the gentlemen to see the woman and the two kids come inside the restaurant, as was expected.

Chance was actually not a creature of habit. In her old days, stalking wasn't a gig; she usually already knew where her targets were, but this time, it was a different manual. She played it by ear for a week, watching these people. Chance didn't know how to confront them about Pavel. Any other time, she'd have threatened information, but the only thing different was that this one had kids. Chance didn't threaten foals: harming children or animals was a deal breaker. As of now, she had been trying to contemplate how to go about it.

The young girl and boy were begging their mother for something different. They spoke Italian with rapid speed, but their accents were not so. Chance picked up their dialect as something more exotic. Pavel was Asian, but from what part of Asia was he? The children picked up their spoken accents from the mother. Chance figured that since the family was mobile, odds were a bit peaky as to know which country they were a part of...She wondered if the mother could speak other languages. Could the children and the mother speak the same languages? Maybe she knew more than they did. Chance clicked her tongue curiously.

The bartender tapped her hand. Chance looked at him.

"_(Miss, you've been watching that family for a while now),"_ he said, glancing at her suspiciously. _"(Are you troubled by them)?"_

Chance grinned at him. She crossed her legs and idly pointed at them with a careless finger,

"(_What do you know about them)_?" she asked in his language.

He gave her an odd look.

"_(You speak well in Italian)," _he retorted. Then, "_(That family's a new one. They come in here for lunch and dinner then go home. They're nice people. The kids are sweet; she—" _he indicated the mother with an empty glass—_"is very lovely, but protective of them)_."

Chance nodded.

"_(How so)?"_

"_(A local tried to kiss the daughter and the mother pulled a gun on him)," _answered the barkeep casually. He poured vodka into the empty glass and handed it to Chance with a smile. "(_It's not shock to me...Italy. It's romantic for tourists, but it's got a stereotype for the most casual deaths)."_

Chance took the glass and handed him a twenty-dollar bill. A smile crossed her face.

"_(Then you've certainly never been to Gotham._)" Chance tipped back the liquor. Her face soured slightly at the sudden hit of alcohol, but digressed as it slid down her throat. She smiled warmly at the barkeep, ate the pizzone with her fingers, wiped her hands clean with a paper towel, then continued to watch the family.

"_(Touring)?"_ asked the bartender.

"_(No)."_

"(_Business or pleasure)?"_

"(_Business is my pleasure),_" Chance retorted sweetly, glancing at him.

Chance turned her eyes to the family. She sighed.

"_(Speaking of which,_" said Chance casually, sliding off the bar stool, "_I have some to take care of. Thanks for the meal; it's always tasty._) _Ciao._" Chance waved goodbye at the bartender, who smiled after her. Chance walked by the family with a slight smile; a few men watched her go out the door.

She headed for the house on the outskirts of town. When she found it, Chance approached it carefully. The mother was protective of her children, but what mother wasn't? Chance looked over the house. She remembered how Ace had wired her warehouse. Was the mother so paranoid over her kids to do all of it? Then again, odds were that Mrs. Pavel was aware of her husband's value? How knowledgeable was the doctor anyway? And if he knew how to rig a bomb, why couldn't he just disable it? Once he figured out what Bane was going to do, wouldn't that stop him?

_Unless Bane killed him. That might set the disarming technique back a few hours,_ Chance thought, still searching for key signs of security. She chuckled. _He probably would kill Pavel in the end anyway. Keeping him alive—well, that's why Daggett was still kicking, wasn't it?_

Chance sighed. She didn't find any sophisticated weaponry. No trigger, no trip wire...not even a trap door.

_Tsk, tsk, Pavel. A scientific genius and your family's out and about. Wow, what a father _you_ are._

She wiggled the door knob. It opened. Chance pushed it. It slowly met the other side of the wall. She peeked inside. Well-decorated, homey. Such a nice place for a mobile home. Chance observed the walls diligently: just pictures.

_Well, this is getting a little boring..._

She entered the Pavel home and closed the door behind her.

_Huh. That was anti-climactic..._

She wandered through the house aimlessly, waiting for the family to get home. Chance found Pavel's study. She wiggled the door knob, but to no avail, it didn't budge. She scoffed as she pulled off her high heel shoe, took out a needle, and jammed it into the keyhole.

_Lock the front door, no, no, no. But God forbid someone enters your office. Seems a bit—AH!_

The door opened and Chance was in. She looked around the office.

_This is starting to get on my nerves..._

The room, too, was like a barren wasteland. Pavel might have been a genius-level intellectual, but he had nothing to show for it in his office. An empty desk...empty drawers...file cabinets were all bare...Unless...

_He took his work with him. Clever man. Stupid, but clever. You can be both._ Chance looked around the room with a crestfallen look. _He's nearby, though. I can feel it. Maybe a continent away, but I'll find him..._

Chance sighed and walked out of the room.

She searched the house for something, anything, but the house held nothing useful. She was trying to find out where the man himself was located, but apparently his family did their best at what they did by being his relatives: hide everything from everyone. But Chance wasn't afraid of breaking a few rules to get what she needed. She didn't much care for harming children—and she wouldn't—but she knew that kids had a way of getting out information when Mommy was being hurt. It looked like that the only way to get any hide or tail known from the house was getting through the mother. Chance sighed wearily...

_I should have known. Well, all right. We'll play it your way, Pavel. Let's see how loyal a family really is..._

Chance waited for them to come home. She sat in the living room all day. Chance was awoken from a daydream when the familiar static popped in her ear, and then she heard Bane's familiar rumbling undertones,

"_Where are you?_"

"The Pavel household," mumbled Chance tiredly.

"_Are you occupied at the moment?_"

"No." Chance answered. She rubbed a finger sleepily against her temple. "They haven't returned."

"_It's an hour until midnight._"

"It's not strange," said Chance quietly, shaking her head. "The family's close. But I'll tell you one thing: it's not going to be easy, trying to find Pavel."

"_Why do you say this? What gives you that impression?"_

"I searched the house. There is nothing tying Pavel to this lot," commented Chance. "I had to pick the lock to his office, and there's nothing in there except a few file cabinets and a desk, but it looks like they've been cleared out. Even his pictures are missing." Chance glanced at the mantle above an unlit fireplace where dust prints were embedded on the surface; frames had been there, but now they were gone."

Chance sighed. Then she heard him exhale slowly.

"_Keep them alive,_" he said calmly. _"We do not need any attention coming from spectators._"

"I'm not going to butcher them in their sleep, Sir," said Chance cockily.

"_Don't sass me._" A pause. "_Be efficient. A month has gone by and nothing has changed."_

"I'm sure of it," remarked Chance boldly.

"_For your health, I hope you are,_" said Bane in a dark undertone. Chance's back chilled. He clocked out. Chance sighed. She stared at the door.

It opened to slowly. The family entered. The children strode in with a jump in their step; the mother entered closing the door behind her. When their eyes adjusted to the dark, the children stared at Chance, who was sitting comfortably in the chair. Chance smirked at the children. The boy watched her carefully; the girl was a bit taken aback by the unexpected visitor. The mother noticed Chance, then, as the bartender had told her, she reached into her purse and aimed a magnum pistol at Chance. Used to be held at gun point, Chance merely remained seated, smiling.

"Evening," said Chance pleasantly.

The woman was a bit awkward, staring at the American whose eyes watched her calmly. The mother held the weapon in her hands with a tight grip; Chance could see her knuckles whitening. Apparently the last 'attacker' wasn't so steady. The tourist might have been shaken; but Chance wasn't stirred. She was calm.

In a beautiful accent, the mother exclaimed,

"Why are you here, American?"

"Ah, you speak English," said Chance approvingly. She indicated the children, "But do they?"

"No," said the woman gently. "They know Italian. Don't you touch them..."

"I'm not going to harm your children," said Chance, laying her elbows on the arms of the chair. "I don't think that would get them to say anything."

"Get out."

Chance stared at her. Her blue eyes pierced the darkness. The woman's glare faltered. She glanced at her son and daughter slightly; they continued to stare at Chance as if she was the only American that they had ever seen.

"Don't alert them," said Chance softly. "They don't have to know what is going on. Lower your weapon, and they won't know anything of it."

"I'm not lowering my guard for their comfort, woman," said the broad dangerously. "My husband knows about your kind."

"_My_ kind?" inquired Chance, pointing to herself. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"He knows terrorists."

"Terrorists? That's a hard word to say. What makes you think I am one?"

"I know you are; he speaks of you often."

"He?"

"My husband."

"And who is _he?_" Chance grinned at the woman's flickering fear. "His pictures are gone; his office is nothing but a shallow room. What exactly does your husband _do_? Are you hiding him from me?"

She held the gun fast.

"Who _are_ you?" the mother stated, staring at her.

The children glanced at the woman. They sensed her tension. They gathered at her knees, holding on for dear life.

"You're frightening them," said the mother dangerously.

"No. _You're _frightening them." Chance corrected her generously. She indicated her calm state, "I've shown nothing but casual conversation. _You're _the one holding the gun."

"You broke into my house."

"One, the door was unlocked. Two, I posed no threat...yet..." Chance smiled. "I could be a neighbor of yours who might have moved in last notice and I don't know the rules of the 'hood. I could be an FBI agent, I could be the fucking IRS for all you know. You're holding a gun to me, which, if I were an FBI agent, you'd be committing some heavy crime, Sweetheart."

The mother lowered the weapon slowly.

"Well, isn't that nice." Chance remarked. A pearly row of white teeth shined.

The mother stared.

"What do you want?"

"I want to know where your husband is." Chance answered.

"He's mobile."

"Really? I thought he was at a local station—No shit, female." Chance frowned. "I know that he's mobile, I want to know where he is. So...Where is he?"

"He's out and about, on planes all the time. He doesn't return here."

Chance sighed.

"Where is Pavel?"

Then the woman gave Chance a blank stare.

"What?"

Chance repeated herself, "Where is he?"

"_Who's Pavel?"_ questioned the woman softly.

Chance stared.

_The boy looks just like Pavel...I haven't mistaken._

Chance rose to her feet and indicated the missing picture frames on the mantle.

"They're missing. Where are your pictures of your husband?"

"They're not missing; he took them with him," said the woman. "Those have been missing for a while now."

"Did your husband take his blue prints from his office?" Chance asked slowly.

"He doesn't own blue prints. My husband uses evidence."

"What?"

The woman clung to her children. Her face was confused, and Chance was starting to lose confidence.

"My husband is an agent...A CIA agent, miss," said the woman gently.

"No, he isn't. He's a scientist."

"Doug isn't at all clever enough to be a scientist..."

Chance then suddenly felt a cold chill run down her back. Her face whitened. She lost feeling in her fillanges as she suddenly took a grip of what was going on.

Chance had been tracking the wrong family this entire time.

"Oh no...No, that's not right..." Chance muttered. She glanced at the boy. "He looks like him. His face, his eyes..." She glanced at the mother, who, too, must have realized that there was a mistake in identities. Instead of raging a 'I told you so', the woman approached Chance slowly, looking sympathetic. Her logic ran the course; if this calm American woman was now in a rushed panic, her boss was probably expecting a positive outcome to the strange visit. However, this might have stalled any resignation of cheer. Chance's stomach dropped off an entire state building.

Bane's last words hit her in her mind like an ominous toll: "For your health, I hope [you're sure]." Chance bit her lip. She had tracked them; they shared traits with Pavel. The looks...Pavel was mobile; he was close by. He never stayed in one country at one time. But then...The house—this house was lived in—the pictures...they were bought for luxury, not for mere decoration. Chance should have known the look of the house: the family was mobile, but the house was not. They didn't up and move—the father did. The father was a CIA agent. What did the woman say? He knew her kind—_terrorists..._The League of Shadows...Been watching her maybe.

Her mind was racing. The woman wasn't protecting her children from suspicious characters out of paranoia; her husband was a government official—it was security. The pictures were gone to hide his trace from them to protect them.

"Are you all right?" asked the woman, gazing at Chance.

Chance's whole face was pale.

She glanced at the mother.

"Oh, god..."


	49. Test

City in Pieces

Chapter Forty-Nine: Test

Chance didn't apologize as she quickly left the house. That cold, sinking feeling in her stomach clung to the walls of her nerves like a vines along the side of a house; she hurried fast through the streets. As she paced herself, her only thoughts were of anticipating Bane's disapproval, and although he would value her alive, he wouldn't hold anything back. He was fair in terms of understanding, but the punishment for miscalculation was severe, and even a decorated lieutenant like Chance wouldn't be able to find a way around it.

Her jogging staggered and she plummeted herself toward the church,

_Get it over with already! _Chance thought desperately. She hurried through the confession booth. She tore the curtain across the hanging and rapped the wall quickly.

"Forgive me, Father," breathed Chance, panic in her voice, "for I have sinned."

"What are your sins, my daughter?" asked Apostle from the other side.

"I am the Messenger of the one who wears the mask," said Chance quietly.

"Lieutenant...Are you all right?" Apostle remarked from the wall, clicking the button beneath the seat. Chance glanced at the door that opened.

"I've made a terrible mistake." Chance whispered, staring through the dark.

"Then let's be hopeful that God can help you out," Apostle told her kindly through the wall.

"God can't help me now," retorted Chance softly, entering through the darkness.

She descended the stairs in a glide, came to the double doors, and saw Bane standing in the middle of the room, looking straight at her. Chance gulped loudly. She dared not enter full bodily into the lair; her feet stoned themselves in her shoes. Ice cold. She wasn't frightened of him.

She was terrified.

"Sir..." Chance said, meaning to sound bold, but her voice failed her. She was panting from the run, and it was lucky that she was; her voice shook from fear, but to anyone unknown, she was out of breath. Chance held onto the frame.

Bane hadn't been waiting for her. He had glanced at the door at the convenient time when she entered. He turned to his agents of shadow whom apparently had been listening to a good speech, for their eyes returned to him with certain appreciation.

"We will make reservation in Burgas, Bulgaria. That is our destination. As you were." The men fell into their cots. Chance stared at Bane, who turned to her, then motioned for her to follow him. Chance's stomach dropped off when she knew they were heading toward the sky light pent house. They said nothing as they climbed the stairs. She followed behind him, trying to catch anything to give light over what has happened.

Burgas, Bulgaria was on the other side of the Europe—they would skip like...Chance recounted the world map in her head and counted...four or five countries. And the country couldn't have been picked off the map at random. What did Bane know? Surely, he wasn't following a hunch...

_Not like me,_ thought Chance, fuming at her ignorance.

He stopped in front of the door. Prickling started from her neck, down her back, and seemed to caress down her arms as she waited for Bane to open the door; after fiddling with the lock on the handle, he pushed it open and stepped to the side to let her through. Chance passed him. Bane closed the door behind him and leaned against it, crossing his arms. Chance stood in front of him, her back turned to him because her eyes couldn't meet his disappointed gaze. Or an angry one.

"What did you learn?" he said. His voice was low and controlled, but even then, Chance knew that he was able to control it even if he was furious. This was no help for her. She couldn't read him. Now she was like all the others, like she was before. Frightened, and the walls seem to close in the moment she opened her mouth.

"I have news," she uttered; she could practically feel his eyes burning into her skull—her mouth was dry, "But...you won't like it..." A silence blanketed the atmosphere. Her heart pounded in the awkward tension, she could see her chest pulsing under her shirt. "I think," she managed through a shaking voice, "you already know...though..."

His feet moved behind her. Chance closed her eyes.

_Do it fast. Whatever you're going to do, do it fast. Please..._

Bane's presence was ever closer. She could tell he stood..._right..._behind her. If she moved back any, his body would be up against her, and suddenly—

That hot surge pelted down her chest, to her quaking cavity, and pooled like molten lava to a bottomless pit of her pelvis. She fought the thoughts that raced through her mind; fear was a drug, and if she liked it when he frightened her, it was what it was. Chance didn't know whether to utter a plea or to ask him to take her.

"How," his voice thundered against her neck, "do you think I already know..." A pause. "...When you haven't told me?"

Chance bit her lip; she tasted blood. Maybe a bit too hard.

"Sir, I tried..." Chance whispered. She felt a trickle run down the corner of her lips of what blood she hadn't caught. "I thought...I..."

"A month," he said in her ear. "You had all of us down here for a month, waiting for you to catch his family"—Chance flinched as one of his hands steadied on her right shoulder—"and you have returned with information...Did you learn _anything?_"

"I was mistaken...I was mistaken..." Chance whispered shakily, shaking her head.

"A hunter like you? Mistaken. No," he sighed. "You assured me that you knew _them_ for sure."

"I was sure..." Chance whimpered.

His other hand crept along her waist.

_My God, make it quick if you're going to let him kill me..._

_No...make it slow...Oh, God, I don't know...Why am I still so addicted to him?_

_Shut up, you're being punished for your failure!_

_Oh...but if it's punishment, it feels so good..._

Chance's mind barricaded the undertones of reason and lust. Long ago, she'd have hated the feeling of fear mixed with want, but it was under Bane that she had become accustomed to wanting something that she was terrified of, which was once a path—now it was Bane. Chance shuddered as his left hand steadied his fingers on the waistline of her skirt.

"The family isn't Pavel's," said Chance quietly.

"Isn't it?"

"Wrong family...family of a CIA agent..." Chance said quickly, staring straight ahead. Bane's hand along her waist pulled her back; her back was against his stomach. It was like being punted against a wall. By reflex, she set her hands on his thighs behind her. Chance was aware of his right hand caressing her neck.

_He'll make you understand why you failed..._

_I want him to do it..._

_You're sick you know that; wanting some guy to strangle you._

_Mm, not just a guy._

_Bane..._

Chance's breathing quickened.

"Do you know how much you set us back, Chance?" he said.

"I'm so sorry..." she whimpered. "I—Oh!"

Chance's neck seared as Bane grasped her throat; his fingers clung around her windpipe. Chance's fingernails clawed automatically along his jeans instinctively. His face remained calm all the while, glancing at her. Bane held her fast as she choked.

"I never told you to apologize..." he said from behind his mask. Chance's hands flew up to his wrist, attempting to pry his fingers from her windpipe. She gasped for air. "You assured me of false claims, my dear. I don't have to yell at you to make you understand how upset I am right now, do I?"

Chance cried out, nothing came. She shook her head. Chance's lungs screamed. Her stomach ached. Bane released her neck; Chance inhaled grateful gobs of oxygen, falling to her knees, grasping her heart. She coughed wildly. But her relief ceased when Bane leaned over, pulled her head back by a handful of her hair, and stared at her frightened eyes.

"I...I..." Chance breathed. "The boy looked just like Pavel...I was certain...You have to believe me."

Bane caressed the side of her jawline with a fore finger. Chance hoped he was merciful.

"I believe you."

Bane entangled his hand in her hair; Chance cried out as he pulled her to her feet by a raw technique. Chance stood in front of him.

"I know that I was wrong!" Chance yelled angrily when he released her locks. She stepped a few good inches from him. "I knew it when the woman told me! But you would have never known if I hadn't told you!"

"You're under the impression that I just discovered it recently," said Bane, approaching her.

Chance stared at him.

"You sent me here to track them." Chance reasoned.

"They're in Bulgaria, Chance," said Bane. "Pavel and his true family reside in Burgas, comfortably awaiting our arrival. They haven't turned against us, they await us..."

"Then you set me up for failure," Chance said.

"No, I was testing you." Bane said calmly.

Chance glared at him.

"You still don't trust me?" she hissed.

"I trust you, I believe you, but I wanted to see how well you would do." Bane explained. He signaled for her to come to him, but she scoffed coldly and walked away, sitting on the bed.

"Then why did you strangle me just then?" Chance questioned him, suddenly furious.

"Chance, I can read you like a book by now." Bane said, standing in front of her. She glanced at his eyes. He reached for her chin. "Look at me." She tried pulling away, but his grip around her face tightened. "Look at me, I said."

Chance bore angry eyes as she watched him.

"I knew that you would fail." Bane said. "I wanted to see how you would react. You didn't run from me. You came back to give me unfortunate news that would no doubtedly cost you your life. It's an admirable trait. Some may see it as foolishness," he pulled her tangled her and pushed it behind her ears, "I call it loyalty."

Chance sighed.

"You knew that I was watching the wrong people. All this time."

"Yes," said Bane, nodding. A pause. "This CIA agent, the husband of the family...did she drop a name by any chance?"

"She wasn't specific," said Chance honestly. A pause from her. "Why?"

"It's not a surprise that the American CIA has been watching my activity." Bane told her. "I've known quite a while."

"Why haven't you mentioned this to me before?" questioned Chance softly.

"It's less likely that we'll be caught unintentionally," said Bane truthfully.

Chance watched him.

"If," began Chance gently, "you were to die"—Bane gazed at her purposefully—"what would you have me do?"

"Do what must be done." Bane answered.

"And if I should fail at that?" asked Chance hesitantly.

He searched her face.

"Do you doubt your ability to look beyond death?"

Chance shook her head.

"No." She rose to her feet. "Just yours."

Chance stood up on her tip-toes and lightly kissed the place on his mask where his lips would be. She rubbed her neck slightly. Some heavy marks appeared around her throat, the imprint of his hand was visible. Bane shook her head.

"I expect you to do what is necessary, Chance. And leading these men through the world, liberating those who were imprisoned by corrupted men—that is your destiny. As it is mine."


	50. Travel En Route

Author's Note: Thank you for all the reviews, especially to my avid readers, Bookluvr88, Shimmering Evil, The13thConspiracy, DarkFairy207, Gaara-Frenzy, Alya Kihaku, BrokenCalibre, and Mehguhn. I enjoy all of your reviews :D I enjoyed writing the last chapter. Hope you enjoy reading this one.

City in Pieces

Chapter Fifty: Travel en Route

Burgas, Bulgaria bordered the Southern Black Sea Coast. Chance had questioned Bane's particular insight about the city, and, since he was polylingual in the subject of geography, he gave her the description in a tourism-aspect. Chance hadn't been familiar with the country, merely because she had no interest in traveling there, and in her childhood was only dreaming of life in Italy, France, London, and Spain. Bulgaria, in other words, wouldn't have been her first choice.

According to Bane's tourist speech, Burgas was a fine time to visit at any time of the year. Built by the sea and surrounded by lakes, it was blessed with cool summers and warm winters. He told her that Burgas was surrounded by actually three lakes, but didn't give her detailed descriptions. Pavel wasn't a diver or a fisherman; he wasn't going to be interested in the luxuries of the bodies of water, but on the land.

According to Bane, Burgas had fifteen districts, but he had pin pointed the possible location of Pavel and his family to Slaveikov: it was a living area, which didn't attract tourists, no beach, and was surrounded by the 'Asen Zlatarov' University buildings. Bane had given the men the route to Bulgaria.

They were going to travel by plane, a direct flight there. Although flights were only current from London to Bulgaria, Bane had arranged a travel guide, another agent of the League of Shadows, who owned his own travel route. Apparently, this was the sort of transaction where a rich man could actually buy 'air'. Chance didn't feel the need to comment on such a topic: Bane was already up to date about how she felt toward the social elite.

After the plane landed, Bane had given instructions to selected groups of the League. All of them would use the central train station that was located in the very heart of Burgas, much like how Wayne Tower made Gotham's railroads run. In Burgas, the train was the travel-by way to get to summer resorts, villages, and of course the Center District where shopping areas and restaurants were located. Each group of men would end up in the designated city, searching homes _inconspiciously_, which was during the day while people weren't home, and establishments, such as the Universities and work places.

Bane advised the men to use the accepted ways to travel, which was by using the bus routes and hitchhiking. Apparently in Bulgaria, hitchhiking wasn't as bad as it was in Gotham. The odds of actually getting out of a car, unscathed, in Gotham were like ½. Considering the crime rate, rape was like the least amount of harm.

Since Pavel was like any other citizen, he wouldn't work and go home in that order. As a man of knowledge, it was very likely that he would sight see, so Bane handed the agents (and Chance), a list of what he could be seeing. Pavel would be visiting museums; according to Bane's information log, Burgas ad four museums: Ethnographic (arts, crafts, and dances); Archaeological (Ancient roman and Ancient Green antiques); Historical (history of other but most of the flower compositions stay for the public until the late summer.

Bane's advise to search the bars and clubs for Pavel was out of far stretches, but he hinted that Pavel, too, was, again, a man. Men loved to drink. Chance had pointed out that Bane didn't drink, and he had only given her a pointed look, indicating his mask. But nevertheless, he handed her the lists of social clubs: Addict (which was a disco, commerical music place); Alibi (retro parties, black parties, and disco); Broadway (a cafe and bar served with cocktails); Caribe (an open air bar lightened with Latino and pop music); Dover Strait (bar and cigars); Elita Poka Club (disco and fok music); and London Pub and Restaurant (homemade English food, local beers and wine, and actually owned and ran by the English).

When Bane finished, Chance merely stared at him.

"You did your homework," was what she could say.

"Long ago," said Bane, sitting behind the desk. "I already knew this from the past."

"Right, a good memory," said Chance with a smile.

"Yes." Bane said.

Chance sighed. She set the stack of papers down in front of him and plopped into a chair beside him.

"These twist of fates are starting to give me whiplash, Bane," Chance admitted tiredly.

"It keeps you on your toes." Bane said. "I didn't give you five years of my time for it to fly out one ear and out the other." He met her eyes. "You were playing hunter when you should have been playing the role of listener."

"That's why you wanted me in Italy in the first place, Bane. You said that you needed me."

"I did. I still do," he commented casually. "You passed my test."

"I still don't understand why you don't trust me." Chance muttered.

"I don't understand why you don't trust _me_."

Chance glanced his way.

"I trust you."

Bane shook his head.

"No, you don't." He sat up straight in the office chair. "Had you really trusted me, you would've let me take every last breath from you. Right now, you would cease to exist."

Chance stared at him.

"So if I let you kill me," she said slowly, trying to understand his meaning, "then that will show you that I can trust you with my...life?"

"No. _That_ would be stupid." Bane stated.

"I don't understand what you're trying to say," sighed Chance, lying her head against the back of the chair.

"Fighting me was good," explained Bane. "I don't expect you to sit in front of me and take the beatings. It's your eyes."

"My eyes?"

"You're terrified of me, still."

"Isn't that what you want?"

"I actually would rather have your respect than your fear, Lieutenant." Bane chuckled. "What good are you to me if you can't follow orders because you're scared?" He didn't expect an answer. "What you are trying to do now is transition from being my second-in-command to being my equal. Sometimes, I won't be there to hold your hand; you'll have to make your own decisions."

"And when that time comes, you will cease to exist." Chance remarked softly.

"Why are you candid with me now, Chance? A few hours ago, you could say nothing."

"You're not talking to me in ranks, Sir," answered Chance. "You're speaking to me as if I am your friend." Chance shifted in her chair. "That's what you and Talia do, after all..."

Whatever Bane was going to say or not, it was forestalled when the large screen in front of them illuminated the otherwise dimly lit room and the picture came in. Chance already knew who it was going to be: Ace, apparently, had some news.

Ace had set up a monitor, apparently, where instead of being installed on a laptop, it was hooked into what Chance could make out was the visage of a video recorder. The familiar moving of the screen indicated that Ace was holding it. Bane and Chance said nothing as they both watched with curiosity. The light hit their faces, and they could make out the scene.

What was being filmed was the inside of a large bank. Chance recognized it as Gotham's First Bank: the marble floors, the pillars around the walls; fancy counters and well-dressed tellers; glass doors—well, remnants of a door. Chance watched as a large school bus slammed through them. What was going on was obviously an armed robbery, but on a much bigger scale. Chance and Bane, both intrigued, watched a goon be shot down. The dead man was wearing one of the face masks that Chance had the unpleasant opportunity to see. The camera was wiggling badly, showing the dead man. Suddenly a voice from behind caught the attention of the carrier, who aimed the camera lens steadily at a fallen teller man, dressed in a fine, brown suit.

Ace's voice was closest; she was the camera woman.

"Well, well, well, look at what we have here," said Ace's shrill voice; she obviously was enjoying herself. The familiar shriek delight followed afterward. Ace directed the camera at herself. Chance saw the wide smile before saw the eyes.

"Hi, Chance," said Ace brilliantly. Chance assumed that Ace could see them as well through a flipped out section of the camera: Ace might have stolen it from an electronic store, picking the most expensive one and taking it. Chance smiled at Ace. Bane merely watched from the desk. "Oh, and _Sir,"_ Ace aimed her voice at Bane. "You guys look comfy...Oh, look, he wants to talk..." Ace aimed the film toward the man who was down. His shoulder looked shot. He was glaring pass the camera, then his eyes glowered at Chance and Bane.

"There was a time when people believed in honor...respect..." he sputtered. Ace's scoff was heard from the side. But the man wasn't talking to Ace anymore. He was yelling at someone else. "So what do you believe in, huh? _What do you believe in?"_

Then a man came into view, hovered over the injured teller's body, and stuck a smoke grenade into the teller's mouth like a pacifier to an infant. Ace chuckled. Chance already knew who was wearing the goon mask before he took it off. He withdrew it. The camera jiggled as Ace apparently squatted down behind the man's body, aimed the lens at the uncovered face. After only about a month, Joker looked almost...well...

_Sexy,_ Chance though to herself, staring at the man's face.

"I believe," remarked Joker, gazing down at the man, "whatever doesn't kill you...makes you..._stranger." _He gave him a smile. Ace held the camera to her face.

"Isn't he a funny man..."

From out of view, Joker's voice—

"ACE!"

"Coming, Boss!" Ace called out. As she ran toward what now was the school bus that bombarded the doors, Ace pulled into a back seat and aimed her camera at her face.

"Our first step," she said breathlessly, "is complete. How's your end?"

"It's a working process," said Chance, disgruntled.

Joker uttered something. Ace pointed the camera at Joker. Chance frowned.

"Hm. You look swell." Joker commented. He paused. "You look a little grumpy."

"I am grumpy," said Chance.

"That's unfortunate because I'm having some fun of my own. After all, it's all...part of the plan."

"You have no plans." Chance retorted, rocking back and forth in her chair.

"That's what you think. Ace, give me the camera. You're driving. I'm a bit tired."

From out of view, Ace said, "You got it, boss."

Chance watched the camera follow Ace up the bus aisles. She clamored into a seat, stuck the gear in DRIVE, and backed out of the bank. Chance saw school buses lining up through the right side of the street. They were among other buses.

Ace started counting down,

"One, two, three..." Wait for it. In a split second, a loud explosion corroded the silence in the bus, and the grenade in the bank blew up. Ace and Joker broke into fits of laughter. Chance glanced at Bane, who merely shook his head.

"Turn it off," said Bane.

Chance reached for the remote. The projector died as the light fell from the source. Chance sighed.

"Well," she said, "at least they're doing their part."

Bane nodded.

"When do we go to Bulgaria, Sir?" asked Chance curiously.

"Tomorrow."

"Then I'll start packing."

"Unnecessary," said Bane, waving a hand dismissively. "Nothing in there is ours, anyway."

Chance smiled.

Bane indicated the desk drawer closest to her.

"Go ahead and open that."

"Another one of your _tests_?"

Bane gave her look. "Just do it."

Chance opened the drawer slowly. In it, there was a bottle of Champagne and a long case.

"They're yours," he told her.

Chance took the long case questionably.

"Open it."

Chance did it without reluctance. She had expected some jewelry, which wasn't like Bane. Instead, she was given a better present: a large grin stretched along her face. Chance withdrew a gold-plated dagger, sharpened to a hard point. The handle was made of fine wood.

She looked at him. When she couldn't say what she wanted to do so, he merely sighed, popped out of the bottle, handed it to her, and said in a definite voice,

"You're welcome."


	51. Not Tonight

The City In Pieces

Chapter Fifty-One: Not Tonight

That night, while in bed for the last time underneath the blanket of stars, Chance gazed up with wonder. It was so awesome how somebody could feel so complicated, lost in the world, when if one would look up there, they would feel somehow insignificant to the world. But they weren't. The stars above, shooting fires from the great beyond, all looked alike. To count them was impossible, for none of them stood out from the rest. Not like humans. A person could make themselves individually apart, become something else entirely, and be counted from the rest of them. How humans could think that to die was a better relief, it was a thought to consider, but a foolish one. Chance's eyes traced constellations in them, entranced by how some of them actually twinkled, like the lullaby. Chance whispered the words under her breath,

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star..." she raised a hand to draw the patterns, "how I wonder what you are...Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you...are..." Chance lowered her hand to continue to gaze at the beauty that glimmered back down at her.

Could the stars see what happened in the world? Surely God did.

_What is in a God?_ Chance thought atheistically, _if he existed, if any of them did...Wouldn't he have stopped so much pain, so much despair...and wiped Gotham off the face of the earth? Merciful...There was no God that was merciful..._

Bane stirred beside her. He uttered a long sigh. She turned her head to watch him move from his side to lie on his back. Chance gazed at his face, then her eyes fell to his body. His tattoos faced her, and she gazed at them with interest.

She never really paid attention to them, but always liked to glance at them. He was like his own museum of art: sculpted, painted—truly a nice piece of craft.

She admired him so much. Of course, she loved him, but she truly thought that he was one of a kind. Five years—next month would mark the sixth...He hadn't betrayed her, though at times she thought he would. He hadn't slept with any girl or anyone, and although Ace might believe that his charm wasn't the greatest in the world, Chance still considered that if _she_ liked Bane, then other women would too. But if ever he was offered some sort of favors, he either took it and didn't show it, or he completely declined the lot all together. It didn't seem like him to favor the use of a prostitute. Even if he did, he didn't let it on. Chance had to admire how well he could silence his men, how easy it was for him to lead.

Bane's own mind was just as impressive as his body. How could he remember so much to have lived so little? Chance envied his knowledge, though she didn't covet from it. She enjoyed the intellectual conversation that she had with him. Chance was satisfied with that too. He pleased her by all the senses. Perfect, in her eyes.

Sometimes, she wondered if that's what he saw in her.

Bane uttered a small moan; Chance glanced at him. She was brought out of her reverie, and her eyes watched him with interest. He sighed. What was he dreaming? Then, to Chance's stomach-rolling pleasure, he uttered her name in his sleep. Chance grinned.

_That's more like it, _thought Chance.

Feeling a bit restless, she sat up straight. With caution, lest he be the ones who hit others in his sleep, Chance crawled down the bed sheets and squatted on her knees in front of him. She set her hands along his calves, slid her fingers along the soft material to set her hands on his thighs.

Chance had once did something like this to one other person, thought it was nothing as erotic like this. Ace, actually, had been a willing participant to test Chance's ability of dream manipulation. It wasn't a psychic art or a scientific procedure. When Ace was well into REM, Chance had spoken to Ace whilst she slumbered, held several knives in her hand, and actually convinced Ace that she was being held against her will in a barren basement; Chance had sprayed some urine-like substance to make it more believable. Of course when Ace flew out of slumber, she had nearly cut Chance to pieces, only a few minutes before realizing that she wasn't being kept in a dungeon but was safely in her room.

Now Chance was testing her ability to make her lover climax within his dream. Chance hadn't tried dream manipulation on Bane; many times, she had considered it to be dangerous. If _he_ was in a hostage situation, he would kill, but at this point of the night, Chance was feeling frisky.

Chance's fingers climbed up his pelvis. She glanced at the rising bulge, concealed by his undergarments. Chance smirked. She cupped him gently, watching his eyes carefully. He felt it. She could tell. Her hand caressed him in a wonderful massage. He moaned pleasurably, sending chills down Chance's back. She lowered her head to his carved stomach, following the muscles with the tip of tongue, a hot trail pursued.

Then his hands found her shoulders. His hand swept through her hair—

"Ah!"

Chance was startled when he pulled her up; she might as well have been a rag doll, for he easily sat her on his hips, bringing her face to meet his. His eyes gazed at her.

"What are you doing to me?" he said quietly.

Chance smiled. His hands around her face kept her still, but the wide smirk on her face lined with little effort.

"I _was_ pleasuring you," said Chance sweetly. "I thought it was going well."

He stared at her.

"I was under the impression that you enjoyed yourself when I was awake," said Bane, amused.

His hands fell away from her face. She remained seated on him hips.

"I do. It's more of a challenge when you're sleeping," said Chance.

"A challenge. Is that what you want?" questioned Bane.

Chance lowered her head to his neck. Her lips kissed his collar bone.

"What do I want?" asked Chance. "Isn't it obvious to you?"

Chance felt his erection rise beneath her.

"Mmm," she cooed against his neck. "Bad boy..."

"Reckless tonight, aren't we?"

"I am," admitted Chance. "Can you fix me?"

"As tempting as that is," he sounded sincere, "we can't. We have quite a flight in the morning."

"It's a few hours away." Chance dismissed softly. Her hands groped his strong abdomen.

"Which you need to sleep," he added.

Chance met his eyes.

"You meant that?" she said seriously, though not entirely abashed.

"I do." Bane said gently. "What I want to know is this: How do I know you're going to go to sleep if I had already fallen?"

Chance smirked at him as she rolled off his body.

"Trust me, Sir."


	52. Restless

The City In Pieces

Chapter Fifty-Two: Restless

Chance's restlessness made it harder to fall asleep. She stared up at the stars above once more, relinquishing some hope of ever getting reset. Chance twiddled her thumbs on her stomach over the blanket, gazing up at the heavens. It was going to be a long day if she didn't get any shut-eye. She sighed. She tried closing her eyes, but the irritable shine of the stars pierced through; and even if she did lie in the dark, her mind raced wildly: Bulgaria, Pavel, Daggett, Wayne, Joker, Ace, Bulgaria, Pavel...Faces in the light. Bane shifted his position in bed. He turned from his side to lie, once more, on his back. Chance watched his face for a moment. A sudden electricity jolted her arms when his eyes opened to look at her.

"Hi," was Chance's response.

"..._Hi?_" he said, knowing that startle in her voice. "You haven't slept yet." It wasn't a question. He could tell it in her face.

"No." Chance muttered.

"Come here," he gestured for her to scoot close to him.

Chance shrugged, then slid across the bed to close the small gap between them. He took one of her arms and wrapped it around his body. Chance set her head on his chest. His other hand found her waist. Chance's insides squirmed with delight, and although some of it was intimacy, another part of her was...well, touched. Chance could hear his heart beat, nothing stirred over 85. Calm and collected. As usual.

"What is on your mind?" he asked. His voice made a familiar vibration in his chest. Chance smiled.

"You expect me to tell you what I'm thinking?" A comfortable pause. "If you were an enemy, I would tell you nothing."

"If ever I find out that you_ slept with_ an enemy," he said reassuringly, "I'm certain that the situation will resolve itself." Chance didn't feel threatened. He cared. "Now, tell me"—the hand around her waist felt along her back, an absent-minded stroke—"what is on your mind?"

"Everything," answered Chance honestly. And it was true.

"Are you worried?"

"No," she replied confidently. "Overwhelmed."

"We take stepping stones then create a path, Chance," he said. "It is time that we need. Which we have an abundance. Has Ace contacted you?"

"She will, probably, tomorrow," said Chance in a sigh, closing her eyes.

"Do you trust her?" he asked casually.

"Do you?"

He said nothing at first, then answered,

"No."

Chance opened her eyes.

"Why not?"

"You should know why." Bane told her.

"I've known her all my life." Chance said. "She knows what she's doing."

"Chance..."

"What?"

"In the past day, you have mentioned my death as if it will come. Questions about leading the League of Shadows when I pass my legacy to you...I want it clear that you must do this. If I should die during the cause, you must continue without fail."

Chance stared into space. Did he know that she had contemplated about getting Ace?

"Is that clear?" he asked her.

Chance nodded against his chest.

"Crystal, sir," she whispered.

They laid in silence. Chance listened to his breathing. So close to him, her mind raced images of their sexual encounters. Her blood simmered with anticipation, and the more she thought of it, the harder it was to go to sleep. She wanted _something_ from him, anything.

"This is driving me crazy..." Chance whispered.

"Hm?" Bane muttered sleepily.

Chance shook her head.

"Nothing...I said nothing..." Chance said.

"Your fingernails are digging into my back," he told her simply. Chance released him, realizing that this was true. She sat up. Bane looked at her. A feverish glow was around her face; her cheeks were pink. Bane gestured for her to lie back down. When she was about resume where she had been, he shook his head.

"Lie on your back."

Chance glanced at him curiously, but shrugged her shoulders. She laid beside him. He pushed himself off the bedding and supported himself, leaning on one of his strong arms. Chance felt a fire spark between her legs...For a moment, it actually started to hurt.

She didn't understand what he was doing until he slid a hand up her night shirt and cupped her panties with a firm grip. She immediately uttered a cry, something like "Oh, thank God", as he moved his fingers along her small piece of clothing. Bane's eyes watched with satisfaction as her back arched to his touch; her beautiful breasts perked at a certain salute through her shirt. Her right hand held fast along his arm that handed her ecstasy.

"Oh, yes..." she breathed as his fingers tortured her pulsing throb against her underwear. Bane watched her recoil as he pushed his fingers against her panties, threatening to finger through her walls, but alas, underwear was a solid. He thought that Chance's reactions were quite exotic; she didn't gasp the whole time like simple schoolgirls that his men had brought into hotels, and neither did she scream bitch moans the entire time. She had quite a lovely appearance to her when he was teasing her.

Chance felt the burning sensation again, a lustful desire.

"Please..." Chance begged him, closing her eyes as his fingers slid through her underwear to merely graze her folds. Her hips buckled achingly, but he only pulled away when it seemed that she would get too close. She was slick with lust; how a woman could react so much to only a few touches was remarkable. Bane might have created a little addiction in her. Chance reached down to try to keep his hand steady, wanting only to do it herself if he wasn't going to give in to her pleas, but he knocked her hand away.

"No, no, no," he said. "Patience."

"I am patient," said Chance almost painfully, spreading her legs. "Just not for this..."

He put pressure against her steep mound; waves of aches hit her inside, and she moaned, arching her back to the heavens, hoping that maybe God would become merciful. At the same time, she relished it.

Bane slid a finger along her exterior, never attempting to slip inside; the single movement sent a jolt of ecstasy over her body.

"I can't take much more of this..." Chance gasped. "Make me..."

"That's not what your body tells me," he said in a deep voice. He repeated the motion again.

"Oh...God..." Chance breathed. "Please..."

Bane slipped two fingers inside her; she cried out, bucking her hips to his movements. He watched her hips roll against his hand; her fingernails dug deep into his arm.

"Mmm...harder..." Chance uttered, gritting her teeth.

"Good girl," he said into her ear.

He pushed his fingers through her forcefully. Chance cried out in pain, but a grateful smile crossed her face. She raised her legs slightly. Chance's body moved against the sheets, following his ministrations. Her moans sent chills down Bane's back, crumpling into a rising erection. Chance's walls clenched around his fingers.

She hissed something. He stared at her.

"What?"

Chance uttered it again, "Hurt me."

Bane slipped his fingers out of her. Chance attacked his sleeping pants the moment his touch left her. He watched her undress him, then she threw off her underwear in such speed that he hadn't seen her do before. Chance hovered over him, but before she could ride him, Bane took her shoulders, threw her down on the mattress, and penetrated her forcefully. Chance's body seemed to rise all the same time. She concealed a scream by biting her bottom lip, which drew blood. Bane didn't waste any time. He pounded into her brutally, pushing her whole body against the headboard. Chance's fingers went numb at his sudden burst of energy, moaning his name. When she climaxed around him, her walls clung to him violently, sending her body in a maximum thrash beneath his body. Bane endured her writhing. When her walls released him, he withdrew himself from her, lying on his back tiredly.

Beside him, Chance was having repercussions of the orgasm. Her hands clawed the bed sheets. She could feel him still inside her. Chance waddled to him, lying her head on his chest.

"God, you're good," Chance whispered.

Bane chuckled, patting her back.

"Good night, sir." Chance yawned, then in only seven minutes, she was out.


	53. Mob Bosses

Author: Fuck me sideways...Well, I had a five page chapter going on until the fucking computer shut off and my OfficeWord couldn't recover it. So now I have to write it all over again, dammit! Anyway. This probably won't be as great as the FIRST time around, but this part is sort of _important,_ whether or not my computer think so or NOT! ANYWAY!...I hope you like this..._IF_ my computer decides it's _good enough!_ I'm a little ticked, so it's not going to be chock-full of dialogue like the last chapter. Endure with me, if you will...

The City in Pieces

Chapter Fifty-Three: Mob Bosses

In the next few hours, Chance was on the phone consistently. Her attention was drawn. The agent who owned his travel route after purchasing_ air,_ had been available, due to the fact that one of their own had double-crossed with a vigilante in Burgas. Apparently they had their own masked crusader; maybe he had caught word about Batman. The flight was posted in the next ten hours to supplement the loss Head man in the League by a fellow hired gun, one of his best. The agent's name was coined Wings, which was apparently a good thing since the route was by plane. The command center that the League would be sitting in was under one of the universities in Burgas. When Chance questioned why all their ad hoc centers were below the earth, Bane offered to let her use the sewers in Gotham. She declined politely.

Find Pavel was going to be easier, closer to his home, and while they were in Burgas, Bulgaria, Ace and Joker were holding up their end of the deal. Chance had been talking to Bane when Ace had turned on the camera, and the show was about to start, according to her paraphrase. While Chance had questioned Ace's want to film the session, Ace simply told her to relax.

Ace had been in a car with Joker, who drove them to a nearby hotel called the Heated Inn. Chance had only recognized the lay-out of the building, due to the fact that when she had been working with Gambol, her sex life was an ultimate low, so suitors visited every now and again. Ace had mentioned it briefly in front of Bane, but Chance had dismissed the conversation all together, wanting the fact that her past life was a slut to stay quiet between she and Bane. Ace, though, informed Bane that the stories were quite erotic, to Chance's annoyance.

Since Ace had failed to update Chance about Harvey Dent, she told her that Harvey actually took with the people. Joker had commented off screen that these days, the people of Gotham coined him the nickname "The White Knight." When Chance inquired about Rachel, Ace had merely responded with,

"I think they're dating, but I'm not entirely sure. You know me, Chance. I've never been a fan of celebrities. With the glitter and the fame, I don't much like being in the spot of the sunlight." Joker had corrected her, stating that it was actually a stand in the _spotlight. _They had a middle conversation that was off-beat.

"Of course it's sunlight..." Ace had said, side-tracted.

"It's spotlight," retorted Joker, as he had continued driving.

"What did I say?" she had asked him.

"Sunlight," he told her. Ace had paused then chuckled.

"Wow, I've been up too long," she had said.

Chance had openly asked what the hell they were doing, and Ace had told her that they were heading to the hotel to have a talk with the mob. Ace informed her that the reason why they had hit the First Bank was to take what the mob desired the most: obviously, it was their money. On Chance's sudden dismay, Ace dismissed her, stating that there was no way the mob knew about Joker.

"Why rob big bosses, Ace?" Chance had interrogated her.

"Joker's sending a message," Ace had retorted nonchalantly.

"Then switch to debit cards," Chance had stated irritably.

The conversation led to the discussion about Batman.

"The people favor him," Ace had reported. "They like him."

"I knew this," Chance had said with frustration. "That's why were _here_," she indicated Bulgaria.

Ace shrugged away the topic of Batman when Joker and she arrived at the hotel. Chance had watched them go through the hotel like it was a simple abandoned warehouse; even the people merely shrugged at them as they made their way into the back of the kitchen. Chance and Ace had continued conversation while listening to a conversation behind the doors. The people were Maroni, Gambol, the Chechen, and Lau; Chance had recognized their voices because she had worked for all of them at one point. Ace had continued to speak with Chance, but her voice started to irk Joker; he had turned to her, taking her arm, requesting that they talk later because they were "ruining" his "concentration".

When Joker entered the room, the bosses had reacted calmly, though Gambol sent his 'boy' after Joker, who performed his magic trick on the unexpecting body guard. Chance had reacted violently to Joker's resolve, staring as the dead man was pushed off the table. Impressed, but a little alarmed. Joker was no longer a ha-ha type of man anymore. He might have only increased humor in his prior comments before killing.

Ace had hooked the camera into a hanging television, showing the men who was on the other line. Joker had merely informed them that Chance was to observe out of a promise that Ace had made to Chance's boss. All the bosses had reacted with shock, seeing Chance on screen. Ace merely shrugged.

That was, until, Joker informed the mob that Chance was the one who had made Harvey Dent as he was before Maroni had splashed him with acid during a court trial. Ace, apparently, had no idea about that, and she had given Chance a look so deadly, it made Chance step back a little. Chance retrieved her composure, informing the mob that it was no use trying to argue. That Harvey hadn't the slightest clue that he ever worked on the wrong end of the scope; he had no recollection of any of them, and no idea about her either.

Joker had continued the conversation by stating to them that he already knew why they were doing their meeting in the day time, though he questioned why all these lawyers weren't afraid to prosecute. They told him that Dent was the reason. Joker had declined the excuse. Dent was only the beginning because "Batman has shown Gotham" their "true colors." And when he had said that it had been easy to kill the Batman, there had been jeers. And Chance remembered the rest clearly.

Ace had taken a seat on the table beside Joker. She eyed Gambol with dislike. He had started to pinch away at her nerves. Sending the bodyguard toward Joker had made her remember why she had always hated the black-skinned boss, merely because he depended on his guards to do his work. Ace always held the belief that in order to do anything right, one simply did themselves. It saved money and time, but she digressed. If things actually happened the way it would have as planned, Ace would never be able to kill. Which, that ache was happening to her, Chance knew, as Gambol started to mock Joker by calling him a freak. But every time she rose from the table to stab a knife into Gambol's heart, Joker had merely stopped her with a hand on her arm.

Chance hoped that Gambol would remember just how cruel Ace could be. Even a wild firecracker like Ace despised bad manners. Chance had stood in front of the silver screen, watching the scene unfold. She wasn't there to commentate, so she put in few words, except when Maroni inquired the glimmering shadow from behind her. The shadow in question was actually Bane in the background, sitting at the desk behind her, observing the scene with Chance.

Chance dismissed the question by stating it was her boss. Nothing more was said about that.

"It's simple," Joker had rephrased when all he was given was jeers, "we kill the Batman."

Maroni retorted pointedly,

"If it's so simple, why haven't _you_ done it?"

Chance gave that a good point. She watched Ace, who gave Maroni a look.

"In fact," said Maroni, "I think all of us know her"—he inclined Joker's girl with a lazy hand—"and I speak for them when I ask you this, clown: If it's so simple to kill the Batman, why hasn't _she _done it yet."

Joker looked at Maroni, as if he had interesting point.

"Then you know the answer to that, don't you, Macaroni?" he stated bluntly.

"She could kill 'im," said the Chechen, "and we'd see what's left of 'im. Then we know who it is..."

Chance decided this was a good time to put her two cents in. She approached the screen with folded arms,

"If Ace _did_ kill the Batman, you would _have_ nothing left." Chance retorted. She thought back when Ace nearly killed the bejesus out of her. "Mark me on _that,_ Maroni."

Ace simply smiled to herself. Chance knew that she was reminiscing.

Joker shook his head.

"You all are all easily distracted when you see a woman in the room, don't you?" he licked his lips. "If I didn't have her in here, would you all be a little focused?"

Ace chuckled. Chance shrugged. _Maybe._

Joker pressed on.

"It's like my mother used to tell me," he said. "If you're good at something, never do it for free."

The Chechen grasped his meaning.

"How much you want?" he offered Joker.

Joker didn't bother reaching for a number.

"Uh...Half."

_Good amount, I guess,_ Chance thought, slightly astonished by his answer.

There was laughter. But the Joker merely shrugged and rose to his feet.

"Hey. If you don't deal with this now, Gambol won't even be able to afford a nickel for his grandma..."

This set him off. Gambol slammed his hand angrily on the table.

"_Enough _from the clown!"

He rose to his feet and stepped toward Joker. Chance glanced immediately at Ace, who reacted by withdrawing a silver knife from her hip, flung out the blade, and held it dangerously up to Gambol's neck—but then Chance saw Joker open his coat to reveal his stomach, laced with dynamite. Chance stared at them all. Joker held the little cord around his thumb.

"Ha-ta-ta-ta," he said softly, showing the audience his addition to his suit. "Let's not _blow_...this out of proportion...Ace." He whistled toward her. Ace stared coldly into Gambol's face.

Chance could almost guess her thought. _Let me do it. Let me do it._

Ace, though, at her master's call, lowered her knife.

"You think you can steal from us, and just walk away?" Gambol said angrily, looking past Ace's hard gaze to Joker.

"Yeah," said Joker.

Chance chuckled.

"I'm putting the word out: five hundred for this clown, dead." Then Gambol turned his gaze to Ace, and said pointedly, "_A million alive._"

"Ace." Joker said her name carefully. At his gentle voice, Chance watched Ace step back slowly. She wanted to kill Gambol. Especially for his jab. Maroni simply watched with interest. The Chechen was apathetic. At some point, Lau was turned off. Ace crossed the room to take the camera off the tv. Chance saw the screen move as she aimed the camera at Joker.

Joker merely shrugged at Gambol's threat. He assembled.

"Look, all right. Let me know when you want to take things a little more serious_ly. _Here's my card," Joker signaled to Ace. She withdrew a _Joker _card from beneath her shirt and tossed it onto the table. "Ladies first," he said to her.

Then,

"Hey, Ace!" called Maroni.

Ace stopped coldly. She turned the camera to him. Chance watched as Maroni's eyes looked directly into the lens.

"It's nice seeing you," Maroni told Chance.

Ace scoffed. Joker beckoned Ace to follow. They left the scene. Then the silver screen turned off. Ace decided that the talk was done. And so it was.


	54. Girl, Interrupted

The City In Pieces

Chapter Fifty-Four: Girl, Interrupted

"Is she always that impulsive?" Bane asked Chance in the car as Apostle drove them to the airport. "Ace," he clarified when she merely stared at him. He was in his coat, made from the faux leather. It clung to him like a hungry bear. Chance sat across from him, legs crossed. Her attention had been drawn to the last view of Italy's sunrise.

"She's loyal," awed Chance mildly. "She doesn't like others threatening her friends. No one does. She just shows it better." She set her chin back in her hand, leaning against the window to watch the sun start to rise over the land. Such a beautiful country...bred and reborn from ashes. Gotham would look beautiful once it was reformed too.

"You worked with all four of those lords, haven't you?" Bane conversed in a calm tone.

She glanced at him again.

"Yes."

"Chance, you speak little of your childhood."

She waved a hand, hoping to dismiss the topic.

"Past," she muttered.

"Did you sleep with any of them?" he asked in a milder tone. She could tell it was a curious question, though she was half certain that he didn't want to hear the answer.

"Yes," she answered softly. "Would you like to know which one?" she inquired, a tad unnerved at his interrogation.

He shook his head.

"I can guess," he said.

"Why do you say that?"

Bane smiled from behind his mask. Chance knew this because it reached his eyes. She looked at him, now intrigued by his prognosis.

"How?" she said.

"I could tell," he said, "by the way he looked at you."

Chance didn't sleep with Maroni, and yet she wondered if he was going to say his name.

Bane seemed to have read her mind, for he shook his head,

"No, not Sal Maroni. He mocks you. That's not someone who's been intimate with you."

"Then who?"

"The Russian man."

Chance could hear Bane's accent when he said 'man'. She smiled her guilty understanding, acknowledging that Bane's guess was right. Chance slept with the Chechen when she worked with him, but the knowledge of that was unknown to anyone, except Ace, of course. Chance smiled at Bane.

"He didn't do it out of favor," said Chance, explaining the circumstances. "I failed a mission; he comforted me."

"By setting you on your back?" Bane asked politely. That was a different way of putting it.

Chance sighed. Shrug.

"It was a nice gesture." Chance said. "You wouldn't comfort me by doing that, now would you?"

Bane chuckled good-heartedly.

"If I did, don't you think you would have kids by now?" he retorted. "Sex is not the key to comfort, Chance. Even if it feels just right. You should know that by now." Chance shrugged. "Are Ace and Joker intimate?"

"You're not ashamed whatsoever in asking all these personal questions, are you?" Chance said blatantly.

"You've yet to show me any sign of reluctance to answer me. So...no. I'm not ashamed." Bane said smoothly.

"Yes." Chance answered his question. "Ace and Joker are lovers."

Bane and Chance sat in silence.

"I realized that you have never been threatened." Chance said out of the quiet.

"If I was, what would you do, out of curiosity?"

"What would I do?" Chance said incredulously. "Why would I have to protect you?" He looked at her. He didn't expect this. "I don't have to worry about you. I feel bad for the poor sod that _you're_ threatening."

Bane laughed. Chance chuckled. They sat in silence again.

"When we get to the plane, how will the agent know that we're the two that he's expecting?" asked Chance.

"I was told by the actual pilot that when he lands, we're to approach the plane like regular tourists."

"Board the plane and not know what to say?" suggested Chance curiously.

"That is a good suggestion." Bane confirmed.

"Well, hopefully, it goes smoothly." Chance stated whimsically.

"Why wouldn't it?"

"Well, I know we're good at planning on the unexpected, but _everything_ can't go our way." Chance said confidently.

"In any case, we'll improvise." Bane said dismissively.

"No, you'll improvise, and I'll carry out said improv," Chance corrected in good humor. "It's fine with me either way. Sweet plan, easy to remember."

"Why are you in a pleasant mood?" Bane asked, noting her cheery tone.

"I don't know. It's nice to know that Joker's got a hold on Ace." Chance threw up the excuse.

"Better than what hold you had on her, I imagine," he said.

She shrugged.

"Apparently, it wasn't my place to control serial killers."

Bane nodded his head in agreement.

"Your place is clear now, isn't it?" he said casually.

"Of course. Always has been," said Chance. She reached into the side of the door and pulled out a can of Diet Coke. "I'd offer you one," she said with a smile, "but I'm not sure how..."

Bane shook his head.

"How _do_ you eat and drink anyway?" she said, popping open the can.

When he was about answer, the car went berserk: honking, screeching. Chance held onto the can for dear life, keeping it steady. Bane held onto the "Oh, Shi—!" handle, watching Chance fall to the floor of the car. Bane called out to the driver,

"What the _hell_ is going on?"

"Sir, sir!" cried out the driver boldly, "we've got—Oof!" The car was bashed to the side.

"What the fuck is doing that?" Chance said angrily, clawing her way one-handedly onto the seat beside Bane. "Bumper-fucking-cars?"

"Calm," Bane told her.

"It's—!" The driver tried to explain, then the car twisted into a sloppy U-turn. Bane looked out the window to see a trail of cop cars tailing them to the airport. One came at Bane's window and jammed itself into the side. Angered, Chance rolled down the window and tossed her Diet Coke at the violent driver's car; it expertly crashed into the windshield with unexpected force.

"Chance, be mature about it..." Bane said, collected.

"Right." Chance breathed. She withdrew a gun from her hip and aimed it at the cop behind the windshield. She pulled the trigger. The bullets flew the air and shattered the windshield. The car sounded its horn in a long, loud pulse; target reached. Chance glanced at Bane, who took out a radio.

"Apostle."

The person who came on the other line resonated,

"I know! I know!" There was noise on his end. "My men are coming."

Chance took the radio in Bane's hand and yelled furiously,

"Get us the hell out of here, Priest!"

"Chance, relax," said Bane, pulling the radio out of her hand.

"We're being shot at, Bane!" Chance said angrily, indicating the latter with her machine gun.

"And it won't be the last time this happens." Bane retorted.

Chance sighed hotly, stuck her hand out of the window, then shot her machine gun. Then there cars behind the _cops. _Chance watched from the back window as the agents of shadows drove what looked like..._Lambourginis..._through the sea of red and blue sirens, boxing them in.

"Lambourginis..._amazing..._" Disdain was in her voice. "Like a million Bruce Waynes in this city..." Chance hissed.

"Well-deserved Lambourginis." Bane told her, helping her to her seat.

"They were stolen from the rich..." Chance assumed dimly.

"And given to those who _deserve_ them."

Their driver turned into the streets, more calm now that the police behind him were being slowed by Italy's finest. Chance sat on her knees, tense, as she watched through the back window. Bane gestured with his hand against her thigh. She sat down beside him.

"Easy." Bane said. Chance sighed.

"We're fifteen minutes away, sir," said the Italian driver.

"Very good," Bane answered.

"Is that you're going to do, Bane, when you liberate Gotham?" asked Chance lightly. "Free all those who are in prison, even the low-lives?"

"We're not setting them free. _All_ of them will serve the same sentence as those who come from money. In our liberation, everyone serves the same sentence."

Bane gazed at her. She knew the sentence as well, as she always had. In a final word, she whispered,

"Death."


	55. Bulgaria

The City In Pieces

Chapter Fifty-Five: Bulgaria

The airport was packed, but the driver took the car around the bend, through the back gates. Chance watched through the window as she observed a flying aircraft begin to descend to the ground. It landed swiftly, parking gracefully a good few feet from the car. Bane tapped her shoulder.

"That's us," he said.

Bane threw open the door. The cop must have dinged it well, for when door flew out by Bane's strong arm, it collapsed off its hinges and fell with a loud _crash_ to the ground. Bane rose out of the driver's vehicle. Chance slid over the seat to climb out. She dodged the car door with a look, staring at the irreparable damage. The cop had trashed the car.

"Wow." Chance uttered in awe. "Quite amazing what a Lambourgini can do."

Bane gave her a look. She recoiled.

"Hey, I'm not too thrilled about this either." Chance told him, indicating the matted door.

The driver climbed out of his seat to looked at the mess. He was apathetic.

"This isn't the first one that's been wrecked," he said in perfect English. "I've gone through about six." He indicated the plane. "The pilot's name is Surge. He'll wait for you as you settle in, and your men will bring the luggage up the ramp." He walked to the trunk of the car. The hood wouldn't open. The man struggled with it. Bane strode toward the back. Chance stepped back suddenly, startled, when the whole hood was thrown to the ground beside Chance's feet. He had ripped it off. The driver, who hadn't expected the solution, was more cautious and he withdrew their personal suitcases.

Bane signaled him to leave them.

"He'll go by the repair shop," Bane informed Chance. "They'll reimburse him."

"I imagine the cost would leave him staggering." Chance estimated.

"It wouldn't graze his checkbook." Bane retorted. He reached down to grab the two suitcases. He threw Chance's luggage over his shoulder. The other, he carried his own in his hand. Chance gave him an appreciative look. He signaled for her to move ahead him with his chin. Chance strode toward the plane.

When they arrived, the ramp went down mechanically, revealing built-in stairs. The rails were attached. Chance walked up them, passed a seated pilot, then sat in the seat directly behind him. Bane pushed their luggage up into the convenient storage above. He turned to the pilot, who stared at him.

"Surge?" said Bane.

"Pleasure," said the pilot. By no mistake was this man European. He didn't even hide it.

Bane returned a word in Bulgarian. He took a seat beside Chance.

"The others?" inquired Surge.

"They've taken separate planes." Bane informed him.

"How do they know to separate when they land?" asked Chance.

"I told them the plan when you were nervous about telling me that you searched for the wrong family." Bane reminded her. He leaned back in his chair. "They'll pair off in teams, search the universities, the villages, shopping malls...until we find Pavel and his family."

"They remember that?" asked Chance honestly.

"They will." Bane was sure.

"You are always confident." Chance sighed, also leaning back comfortably.

"I anticipate the unexpected." Bane explained.

"So do I," said Chance, staightening.

He shook his head.

"Then I must criticize you on how you handled the chase we experienced about twenty minutes ago." Bane relayed to her.

"How did the police figure out that it was us?" said Chance, suddenly aggressive.

"Apostle informed me that there was a traitor in their midst," said Bane. "They're dealing with the situation delicately."

"The traitor's dead, isn't he?" said Chance knowingly.

"I can't put anything past you anymore, can't I?" he laughed slightly.

Chance shrugged.

"Burgas must be lovely this time of year," she swooned, glancing out the window as the plane started to take off. It was like a steady rollercoaster up a hill. The streets were leaving her. Then the skyscrapers followed her until she was above them. The country disappeared underneath a sea of white clouds. Then Italy was gone. The plane leveled out.

"Bulgaria is lovely." Bane said.

"And as we live underneath the university, some of us will try to stay in the sun." Chance's eyes found the gleaming yellow star in the sky. It cast golden rays against her face. She closed the blinds, turning to Bane. He shrugged then laid his head against the seat.

"Try to get some rest, Chance."

Chance sighed.

_I always do..._


	56. Find Him

The City In Pieces

Chapter Fifty-Six: Find Him

Burgas, Bulgaria was abundant with life: High skyscrapers, pavement roads, cars, people, lamp posts, a few trees, and when the plane flew over the beach, it was flooded with people on beach towels. When The plane landed on a resort. A follow-up plane settled a few feet from Surge's aircraft; through the door, the agents, dressed in tuxedos (all of them), filed out of there, approaching Chance and Bane's plane. One might have thought that an important government official was resting there. But the people of Burgas disregarded the aircrafts.

The University that Bane had aforementioned as the secret hide-out was enormous: more of a palace than a place to study. The settlement was crowded: students, young and old, were moving at a fast pace in shoes, on skates, bicycles, mopeds, electric scooters—the city was alive. Trolleys occupied the streets; buses honked and squealed around corners to get to the stops. Taxies scattered the traffic jams, and there were some very good-looking convertibles. On the sidewalks, markets lined up to entered; furbishing establishments were on one side. The other side of the streets were several buildings occupying the same space in a rather surprisingly neat fashion: hair and nail salons, perfume parlors, jewelry stores, pawn shops, gun and ammunition deals—and this was only the beginning of the city.

"Eat your heart out, Ace," breathed Chance, staring out the window of a private bus. She lowered her hood from her head, gazing at the wonder that was Burgas, Bulgaria in awe. Bane, who took a seat from across her, pulled down his hood and set it beside him. They blended with the crowd non-too easily: most of what traveled the city at this hour were college kids, ready to party until the moon was out. They had to travel discreetly. It was lucky that there was a man who could be bribed to keep what he saw in his bus quiet. Chance regarded said bribed citizen with suspicious eyes, but disregarded him when she saw Bane's apathetic face.

She turned her attention to the city.

Beside her were Rocco, Whiskey, and Butch. They had reunited after long days of absence. Chance glanced at them. They appeared to be her body guards. Bane met her eyes only once more. She said nothing. They hadn't said much to each other after they tried catching sleep. She managed what might have felt like 30 minutes, but she wasn't missing anything.

They arrived at the University. Bane stopped the driver from opening the doors, instructing him to take the parking garage in Level P2. He didn't abandon the order, owing to Bane's large size and intimidating face. Chance didn't pay heed it as she watched the sun disappear from view, and they descended the first ramp, then the second.

The driver stopped when Bane rose up to his feet again. He beckoned Chance wordlessly to go ahead of him; she pulled her hood over her head, wrapped a cowl around her face, then stepped off the bus, muttering where only the bus driver could her voice,

"Thank you, Sir."

The driver glanced at her as if this was nothing. Her three bodyguards stopped only momentarily to figure out what she had said. Bane tossed a fifty-dollar bill into the man's lap carelessly. The driver chuckled an old laugh,

"Always a pleasure, Sir."

Bane said nothing in return, but signaled for the man to be on his way.

Bane led Chance through the parking garage, flanked by the three men: another bus passed the first. Bane stopped momentarily, taking Chance by her arm to stop her from walking any further. She slightly whipped away, owing to his hold on her. Chance watched the bus stop. The doors opened. More members of the League of Shadows filed out, two by two, down the stairs, coming to stay in a formation in front of Bane.

"Search the city. Find him." Bane instructed sternly.

They nodded. Nearly all of them fell out, running toward the exits in pairs. Chance watched with some fascination.

"Get Ace on," instructed Bane. "I want to know what the situation is right now." He passed Chance.

"Don't you want me to go to headquarters and set up?" she asked his retreating back.

"Headquarters is one more level down, down a corridor. There's an elevator that can take you below," he added. "Call on Ace. Let me know if there is anything worth mentioning."

He disappeared through some stairs. She snapped her fingers at Rocco, who withdrew a laptop from his carry-on backpack. He handed it to her.

"Follow him," said Chance calmly.

"He asked us to stay with you." Whiskey told her.

"I don't need bodyguards." Chance muttered. "Follow him, I said."

"Yes, Lieutenant." Rocco said gently. "Come on, men."

"But, Rocco, he said—" argued Butch, but Rocco stood up to him, staring into his face.

"Our orders are to return to him. Do it."

"Right...right..." Butch said skeptically. He wasn't intimidated by Rocco. He shrugged nonchalantly and walked the way that Bane went. Whiskey followed suit. Rocco glanced at her uncertainly, but nevertheless, followed her request. Chance watched the second bus glide out of the garage. She was left alone.

When Chance did call on Ace, Ace reported nothing interesting. They hadn't caught fire to anything that would gain interest, but she did say that Maroni had gone to trial. Due to Ace's lack of wonder, it was evident that Maroni walked. According to the news, brought to Chance by Ace, a hostile man from within the confines of Falcone's old family claimed against a confession that Maroni was the head of the Falcone family, he admitted to being the culprit. Upon being sworn upon by the dashing D.A Harvey Dent, the man withdrew a gun and tried to hold Dent at gunpoint, but the action was fruitless. Dent disarmed him, and sent the man to jail. They couldn't match the firearm to Maroni, so he, as Ace had said, walked.

Chance didn't ask anything else. She went down to the corridor, into an elevator, and watched the gleam of the seance lights of the parking garage become ones that were dismal, candle lit. She walked down a stony, cavern path, following the large footsteps on the ground. She came to a door and opened it. Chance found the League of Shadows' lair much easier than she thought she would. The atmosphere was decadent; she didn't much care for it. Too much like the ones in Gotham.

When Bane introduced Chance to the head of the League who had been unavailable to pilot the plane, Chance appreciated him with a small bow, admiring openly about Surge. He merely nodded. Bane could pick up on Chance's dislike of being away from the light.

They stayed in Burgas for only three days. Chance picked up the trace of Pavel when she had wandered through the park, catching his profile picture standing at the fountain, watching the water sprout from the tips of a beautiful Raphael sculpture of a nymph coddled by a centaur. Chance recognized Pavel from his pictures in his portfolio. When she found him, she informed Bane by using the micro-head set in her ear. He was excited to know that she had located him.

Chance merely approached Pavel with a kindred spirit of that of an interested young female adult who partook interest in science and love of physics.

Chance stood next to him with her hands behind her back. He gave a glance at her.

"I always wondered," began Chance conversationally, "why a nymph would always be exposed when displayed in public." She indicated the female statue's revealed breasts.

"I'm not clear on the matter," remarked Pavel in an accent. "I haven't the head for history."

"History and science do not coincide, do they?" said Chance, turning to him.

"I think they do." Pavel disagreed. "What man has to offer to the world is precious. In both fields, he can learn all he desires, all he wants. And he can still remember his own life."

"Can you remember yourself in death, I wonder." Chance said lightly, gazing at the rushing water. It pooled at the bottom. Gleaming coins eyed her from beneath the current.

"Even in death," said Pavel, "we learn new things. One day, we all hope that life will lose, and we will win."

"You don't ever win, Sir." Chance said to him seriously. "You just..." she searched for the phrase, "do a little better every time."

Pavel smiled at her.

"You are very intellectual."

"That's what I'm told." Chance admitted, shrugging her shoulder.

"Perhaps a drink with me?" he offered.

"I shouldn't."

"Then coffee?"

"Keeps me up as it does."

"Then tea?"

"How about I take you back to my school, Dr. Pavel, and then we can reminisce after life?" offered Chance, indicating a black vehicle parked on the side of the road. Pavel gave her an uncertain look. With a touch of charm, she smiled an irresistable "I promise" grin, "Please?"

His right hand fumbled with his wedding ring.

"That's all you want from me, right? Just theory?" he proposed.

"Sure." Chance said with a sweet smirk.

"Well, why not?"

"Great."

Chance and Pavel walked to the black car. She opened the door. Bane was sitting in the back seat, head in palm. His eyes found the doctor's gaze. He stepped back to run away, but he bumped into Chance's chest. She turned him around by his shoulders.

"Come on, Doctor. We've got business." Chance muttered. When he didn't move...Chance withdrew a gun and held it to his back. "Move. Or I'll move you."

He slid into the car beside Bane. Bane watched Chance slip into the passenger seat.

"Well, done, my girl."

"We're not done," muttered Chance. She looked at Pavel through her mirror. "Not yet."


	57. Deal

The City In Pieces

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Deal

Chance watched the nuclear physicist carefully through the right view mirror. He was panicking quietly, shaking in his white coat and jeans. Dr. Leonide Pavel didn't age much compared to his portfolio. Had he been an actual genius, he might have switched some appearances to distort the image, but he did not. He looked exactly like it. Dr. Pavel stared out the window of the car as the driver passed into traffic, the city streets, returning to the University.

"This is the school you teach at from time to time, am I right?" said Chance. Her words were the first in several minutes. Chance mimed for her driver to continue as he was while she turned in her seat to see Bane watching the doctor. Chance smiled at her leader; he gave her a look. Chance continued.

"Pavel..."

"_Yes,_" he said hurriedly. He was shaking. He didn't hide his fright in his voice.

"Look at me."

His bottom lip quivered.

"Look at me, I said," repeated Chance patiently. He met her eyes. Terror. "Is this your school?"

"Yes. I teach...I study..." He glanced at Bane; he recoiled. Bane watched him. Pavel almost went into another rushed panic when he looked into the larger man's face. Bane frightened him as much as he had frightened Chance upon arrival. She knew it. She could see it.

He added wearily, "That's _all_ I do..."

"That isn't true." Chance said gently.

Pavel shook his head.

"It _is_ the truth."

"You're naming me a liar." Chance assumed, still in a calm voice.

He shook his head again.

"I don't do well under pressure..."

"Then how did you become a nuclear physicist?" Chance retorted sardonically. She sighed, "You don't know how long we've been trying to find you."

"W-We?" He tried to look at Bane again, but once more, he failed, trembling. Chance saw his right hand flee to his left ring finger, anxiously twisting the golden band. She looked up from his shaking digits to see that his eyes raised from his hands as well. "Please, ma'am...Please...I don't know what you want from me."

"Pavel, you might have spoken to him before." She gestured to Bane. Pavel didn't look at him. "He requested that you program a certain device. Do you remember any conversation of that nature?"

Pavel's face succumbed to a horrible pale white. Chance smirked slightly. He remembered.

"Program isn't the right word," he said. Chance caught some dark over tones in his voice.

"All right," said Chance with a sigh. Then as if it were a dinner topic, "How about we call it a bomb?"

Pavel bit the inside of his cheek. Chance gave him a cocky look.

"Does that comfort you?" she asked sarcastically.

He must have realized that he was starting to agitate her, for he reassembled himself and gazed at her with a look that was hopeful to get back on her good side. Pavel's eyes shifted to his left. Bane was still carefully watching him. If Pavel hadn't known better, though he had picked up the relationship between his captors, this character was training the beautiful woman. Maybe she was the nicer one. Pavel looked at Chance.

"I can do it." Pavel said. "As long as..." Hesitation.

Chance shifted in her seat, setting her chin in a supported palm. He was going to tell her on what conditions he would perform such a terrorist act.

"What are your terms, Doctor?" She observed him. He mightn't have been Asian. She observed his features, listened to his accent...

"You let me go before you hurt anybody."

Russian.

Chance smiled at him. She met eyes with Bane, then she gave the doctor her most understanding, promising gaze.

"Done." Chance lied blatantly.

Pavel looked a little unease.

"And..." he added slowly. "Don't hurt my family."

"Your family's on West Ichnod Street, an apartment building ran by a faithful landlord," recalled Chance. "I have to tell you, Doctor, your landlord is quite mannered. You have kids, don't you?"

"Yes..." Pavel looked stunned, hearing that she knew _exactly_ where to find them.

"And a very good-looking wife, too?" Chance asked with a grin.

"Yes..."

"Then, rest assured, Pavel, I won't hurt your family." Chance smirked. "As long as you do what you have promised. I will keep up my end of the deal." She sighed. "Well, you remember the discussion. You're going to stay here in Burgas for a while. Unfortunately, back at the 'ranch', things aren't as they should be, and the better part of our city is being torn away by those who can do their jobs properly. In the mean time, stay close." Chance glanced at Bane. He nodded toward her for to continue.

"Speak to anyone about this, and we'll know," said Chance calmly. "Say anything to your government or ours, and we'll know." Pavel's eyes widened in horror. "I told you that I wondered if you could see yourself after death." Chance handed Pavel the family photograph she had kept in her pocket."

"Fail to act as Bane says," said Chance dangerously, "and your family will be the first to know."


	58. One Down

Author's Note: Damn! I am on fire! :D Okey-dokey, enjoy this chapter. Bane lovers, you will love Chapter 59. But don't skip ahead now. :3 The plot thickens.

The City In Pieces

Chapter Fifty-Eight: One Down

The small hint of a lie was the most important to the operation. Pavel had known that the deal was going to be rather risque compared to other bargains that would have been offered. Instead of money, he was offered life in return for a terrorist act, but even then, Chance had lied to him. He was going to turn the Talia's nuclear hydrator into a bomb, but one that could be activated upon recall. Though, in the long run, Bane would require the bomb be turned into one that counted down with or without the trigger. And even if the trigger wasn't pushed, it would blow nevertheless. Gotham would be smashed into nothing, even if Batman could stop it.

_Then he can die with the rest of them,_ Chance thought coldly, _Bruce Wayne has nothing better to do with his wealth than to spend on equipment to help the very people who took his life away..._

Two days. Bane was keeping Pavel under surveillance. They were having to wait until Daggett called for that request. His patience would soon wear when Wayne Enterprises constantly bought everything else, leaving scraps for Daggett's industry. He would request that Bane would steal money from stock exchange. Money that Wayne couldn't afford to lose. Chance knew that Daggett was under the impression that she was working for a mercenary, not a man like what Bane was.

It was night time when Chance sat down in the double sleeper. Bane was not in the room yet. She wore a night robe and slippers. Her mind raced. She thought it would take them forever to find Pavel, and here he was. Well, the time was shortened. Just how long would it be until they could bring Gotham to the ground.

Chance hadn't heard from Ace in two days. She sighed. From her end table, Chance opened the laptop. Just as the screen appeared black, it flickered on. Ace's face was lit up by a flash on the camera itself. Her bright eyes were dancing in the moon light as she stared at the lens.

"Guess what _we're_ gonna do," said Ace with a wide smile.

"I haven't heard from you in forty-eight hours, Ace. I told you to keep me updated." Chance said irritably.

"It's two way fucking street, friend," said Ace. "Joker's got somethin' planned. It's gonna be great."

"Where are you?"

"Soon to be in a hotel, friend," Ace retorted.

She pointed her camera at a scene. Joker was getting into a plastic, black garbage bag. Three goons were assisting him. They were outside the back of a hotel, but Chance couldn't make out the details. Ace walked toward the goonies, and said to them,

"Say hello into the camera, boys!" she called.

Two of them said a greeting; a third, dark-skinned man said cockily, "Hi into the camera."

Ace chuckled. She smirked. Apparently she saw Chance's bored expression.

"Oh, liven up, Chancellor," said Ace jokingly. "Don'cha know when I'm fuckin' with you?"

"None of this is a joke, Ace." Chance said sternly.

"Pfft." She scoffed and turned to her lover. He was lying on top of a car. Joker looked ill. Ace pointed the camera directly at his face. To him, she said humorously, "You sure look the part, babe."

"I should have gone into the acting business, but you know," said Joker, eyes closed. "You want to see some depressed people, go see them."

"I haven't the head for celebrities," said Ace. "You look great, Boss."

"Mm..." Joker mumbled something. The goons hoisted them in their arms. The camera shot back; Ace backed up quickly.

"Will you be gentle, boys? He's an alive man, not a bloody corpse. Get the fuck over there."

The men placed a plastic shield over Joker's face.

"Watch the mouth, Ace." Joker said from underneath the bag.

"Right, Boss."

"What are you doing?" Chance said impatiently.

"You need to wait, all right?" Ace sighed, walking behind them. They went through the entrance. The hotel was vacant. She spoke to her men, "Up the stairs, lads. Step lively. We don't wanna interrupt anything going on."

Through the hallways, they walked, carrying Joker's body.

Ace side-stepped to a closed door labeled A3; she opened it wildly. Chance closed her eyes in disgust to see that a couple were just in the middle of coitus; and Ace had interrupted. She gave a whooping laugh, hysterical.

"Whoo!" Ace slammed the door.

"What was that about?" Chance questioned coldly as Ace followed Joker's pall bearers.

"I got bored."

Ace continued to film. They turned a corner. There were bodyguards at the end of the hall. Chance straightened stiffly.

"Ace..." she uttered warningly.

Ace laughed.

The body guards approached them.

"State your business," said one of them in a low voice.

"Business?" Ace retorted, filming his face.

"What do you want?" he disregarded the camera.

One of the goons spoke up,

"We have Joker. He's dead."

The spoken bodyguard glanced at the bag that they carried.

"Let me speak to Gambol."

Chance's spine tingled.

"Ace, what are you doing?"

"Shut up, Chance."

"_Ace!_"

Chance heard Ace sigh in frustration. Then the camera was off. Chance stared at her blank computer screen.

"Damn it!" Chance roared, rising to her feet.

At that time, Bane entered the room. He looked at Chance.

"Why did you scream?" he said.

"Ace..." Chance muttered for an explanation.

"What is she planning?"

"No, what they _are_ planning—They're going to kill of one of the major crime bosses."

Bane stared at her. He gave her an amused look.

"That's why you're flushed?" he wondered.

"She's killing one of the major bodies that we wanted to bury." Chance pointed out.

"So one boss equals total contradiction to our operation?" Bane inquired her. He shook his head. "If this aggravates you so badly, why don't you return to Gotham?"

Chance glanced at him uncertainly. _Was that a suggestion?_

"What..." She asked softly, "is that supposed to mean?"

"I have actually put some thought into our present circumstances," he stated, sitting down on his side of the bed. "I needed you with me to track down Pavel. You didn't disappoint. You haven't been in Gotham—neither of us have—and I can't expect Talia to be down there at all hours of the day."

"You want me to go back." Chance assessed.

"Yes," he confirmed. "It benefits you. The masses need a leader below the surface, Chance. I won't leave. I need to make certain that Pavel does not leave. Ace is a good supplementary, but Daggett will trust you more than her. I believe that. I also think that once you and Talia become associates instead of rivals, you will appreciate her existence in Gotham. And, of course, you still need to deal with your captain back home."

"Lick." Chance muttered.

"You know that he cannot leave the sewers alive, Chance." Bane said.

"I know. Every person earns their exile," nodded Chance. "He needs to die."

"Yes, he does." Bane commented. "He does."

"Then I'll leave tonight," suggested Chance, indicating the unpacked wardrobe.

"Keep them packed. But you will leave in the morning." Bane said calmly. "Come here."


	59. Good Night Stories

City in Pieces

Chapter Fifty-Nine: Good Night Story

Chance had figured that either tomorrow or later down the week, Bane would request her to return to Gotham. After all, the reason why he wanted her to go with him to Europe was the fact that she was a marvelous hunter, though he had coined the compliment in a different aspect. Chance had been partially avoiding the subject; she would take it as her responsibility to return to the city that bore the American League of Shadows, but she wasn't anticipating separation. Chance found his assumption that she would eventually go back there to be somewhat annoying, but she didn't press the matter. At any opportunity, she would eventually have to return, especially since Joker would cut off a crime lord.

Gambol, no doubt, was likely dead by now. Ace had sealed that surprise with the obvious tone when she filmed the scene, and the likelihood that the modern Joker would back down from some entertainment was very low. Gambol bet a million dollars for anyone, namely Ace, to bring him the Joker. It seemed Karma favored him, and then he was kicked in the balls for insulting Ace's lover. Anybody who went against Ace usually was delivered their payback, sooner or later. Chance was proof of that. Even if it _is_ five years after the grudge.

Pavel was to stay in Bulgaria under Bane's watch. There could be nothing done until Talia al Ghul had Wayne Enterprises on her belt. Once that was due, and once Daggett included them on the deal to take down Wayne himself, then Pavel could be part of the team. And if he turned on them, to make it out with not only his family but the rest of the world on his back, Pavel would pay for it. If Chance couldn't make that promise, then Bane would.

Bane shed his shirt from his body. Like the last times, Chance was immediately enamored with him: her bright eyes did their routine check-up of his body—his muscles first, his tattoos second, and then meet his eyes. Chance's stomach squirmed. Every time, with just a look or a sigh, he could practically make her want to jump his bones with little effort. Chance, though, wasn't alone in the feeling. Bane was very talented in keeping his emotions set, but for so long, Chance was beginning to be able to read his eyes. Though his heart pulsed the same calm beats, though his muscles were relaxed, she could see that similar fire in his eyes.

So easy to miss. He wasn't a sensitive man. He wasn't in touch with his feminine side. He could mock her, beat her—And she would crawl back to him, only asking him for more.

When he gestured for her to come to bed, she was more than willing to do it. Chance pulled off her robe in a simple matter, setting it across a wooden chair. She slipped into bed with him, crawling on a springy mattress. The bed was not as luxuriously soft as was the one in Italy; she actually could feel the springs in this one. Her fingers found the bumps easily. Like sitting on vague bones. Chance ignored it. A bed was a bed. And anything that Bane accepted was good enough for her.

Chance kicked off her slippers. She sat beside him. Bane leaned his back against the head board. She could smell him. He smelled like wood. Wood was a very nice smell. Her back was against the head board as well. For a moment, they said nothing. His arm fell around her shoulders. She let her chin fall along his hand. Her lips caressed his fingers. Chance watched his hand move toward her mouth. She left a small kiss on his palm. His fingers wrapped gingerly along her neck. She looked up at him. His eyes watched her. Then his hand fell away from throat to graze her collar bone. Pass her breastbone. His fingers slighted along one of her right breasts. Chills prickled her legs and rose up to her arms.

He was so massive in size. He could break her body in half if he wanted. Remembering that, that growing spark in her under belly throbbed and hit home between her legs. Chance felt his hand slip around her waist.

"You did well today." Bane said. His voice crashed the silence of the room in a deep tone.

Chance realized she had cotton mouth when she started to speak.

"Luck." Chance dismissed.

"Call it whatever you want." Bane told her.

Chance gave a sincere smile.

"Thank you." Chance stated purposefully. He sighed. "I appreciate it whenever you do say that I do well, Bane." A pause. "I can always read your eyes, but I like to hear it, too."

Bane didn't reply. His fingers caressed her waist. Chance scooted closer to him and wrapped her arms around his stomach. He gazed at her; his eyes saw how close she wanted to be to him. He felt her embrace. Though Chance wondered if he was trying to distant himself. It was dangerous enough as it was that the League knew that they were sleeping together. If the content of the relationship was noticed, that the two of them had become lovers, it would create a fault line in the purpose of destiny: if either of them were to die, the other would have to have enough strength to go on and lead the storm. And a storm was coming.

"You showed understanding of what is to come today." Bane said. She heard the rumble in his chest that his voice made whenever he spoke. "At first, I was under the impression that you wanted your city to suffer. I understand that you see that it will be brought to its destruction..."

"I always understood." Chance said firmly. "I just didn't want it to happen as much as I do now."

"Why not before?"

"I wasn't created out of the air, Bane," said Chance. "It's my birthplace."

"Such a terrible birthplace." Bane said quietly.

"Not as terrible as yours, I think," murmured Chance.

He glanced at her. She felt his hand twitch.

"I know your story by now," she whispered. She stared at ahead. "You've kept your life story so vague, so simple. It's not. You say it so simply, that you rescued Talia from the dark, and then kept yourself down there. But you weren't sent there."

Bane heard her voice. Sympathy. Understanding. He guessed that she might have heard most of his childhood from Talia.

"Born in the dark," continued Chance. "Serving your father's sentence. A young boy, wandering forever, but not lost. You had a master who gave you a proper education. That's how you know so much about the world; he's seen it too. You know so much, learned...so much..." He heard her voice. Admiration and wonder. Bane set his hand along her arms. Her embrace loosened.

"Then a woman, beautiful, I imagine, was thrown into your hell. She traded places with a man out of love, and he went free, while she served his sentence. Stuck in a cell, with animals...Men came at her with their arms wide open, but not to comfort. Only to torture...not with their souls," said Chance quietly. _Rape..._ "But their bodies..."

Chance's voice shook.

"No one saved her...She was left alone...She was with child. And the girl was born. Talia." She paused. "Her mother died, and the rapists came at her. But..." she met his eyes. They bore righteous anger, and he sought them. He had never seen her so emotionally furious, not so meaningful. But her anger was not with him. "You saved her."

Bane watched her eyes search his.

"She was there for years. Then craved the sun. She went out into the light, reaching for the ledge; but she couldn't make it. Prisoners were trying to restrain her. And you pushed them all back, if only for a few minutes to save her."

Chance raised a hand and caressed the tubes along his mask. He closed his eyes.

"This..." Chance said quietly. "Is the result...Your only crime was that you loved her."

"Why do you say all of this?" stated Bane. He lowered her hand from his face.

"I have always known that Gotham was a terrible place, Bane. I didn't believe in humanity there, and I thought there were good people in the world. Your story tells me that the only people in this world that deserve any chance are the ones who have no chance at all."

"It's a hard lesson." Bane said.

"There are worse ones." Chance muttered. She shook her head.

"What else do you know?" he said into the dark.

Chance sighed. Reluctant. "The man who left the pit, whose lover replaced him, was Ra's al Ghul. He left the pit. Then he returned when his daughter came back. He tried to save her." Sadness replaced reluctance as Chance continued. "Too late...Talia showed him to the man who bore the rags on his face, writing in constant agony from surgeries that were useless by the prison doctor. Ra's took him in."

A pause.

"Then, when it seemed as if you had found your place in life, it..." Chance trailed off. Then, "It was ripped from you. Excommunicated." She sighed softly.

There was silence.

Chance met his eyes.

"There are worse things." Chance said to him.

"Worse than what?"

"Death." Chance answered.

"I know your answer."

Chance shook her head.

"No."

"You've told me once before." Bane reminded her. "Rape."

"No."

"Innocence?"

"It's an illusion," said Chance off-handedly.

"Say it." Bane ordered calmly.

"Betrayal." She gazed up at the ceiling. "God save me from my friends, my enemies I can handle on my own." Chance looked at Bane.

Her voice was normal.

"Sob stories are a pitiless bore, Bane. I don't have any for you. I didn't grow up with a difficult childhood. It's as boring as the life of a lonely teenager." She slumped away from him and laid down, lying her head on the pillow. "Ace was my only friend. And look how that turned out. Can't rely on anyone for your life. Always end up on the fuzzy end of lollipop, no matter what."

"You trust me." Bane reminded her.

"I have to trust you, dear," Chance told him. She smiled anyway. "If I don't, who is there left?"

"Talia."

"She's your friend, not mine." Chance said crudely. He stared at her. "She's beautiful, calculating, lovely—I'm a woman, Bane; forgive me for being a tad jealous."

"Do not underestimate Talia." Bane said seriously. "She may save your life one day."

"It's not my life that needs saving," said Chance. "I don't care if I live."

"If you're lying to me, then you're being foolish. If that is true," said Bane, "then you are more valuable to me than anyone. Fearing death and wanting to die are different aspects." She glanced at him. "Recklessness and sending caution to the wind will not bide any respect from me. I'd soon kill you myself if all you want out of this—" he indicated the life of an agent of shadow all together—"is a practical way out of life."

"You're indignant," guessed Chance solemnly.

"I'm not coddling a suicidal woman," he said firmly.

"I'm not suicidal. I'm not afraid to die." Chance corrected him.

"Then be careful with your words." Bane remarked.

He laid down beside her.

Chance turned her head to him. She shook hers.

"One day," she said, "I'm going to be the one that has to save you."

"And when that day comes," Bane said, "and I should perish, keep a level head."

"You have a funny way of saying that you care for me." Chance replied. A pause. "But you don't need to say it. I already know."

"Good night, Chance." He turned on his side.

She shrugged and turned on her own. A smile crept passed her lips.

_Good night, dear._


	60. One Down Confirmed

_Author's Note: I apologize for the delay. On days I work, I'm too tired to write anything. I'm curious if there is a certain ending that would make all of this story go "Capoot". I've always particularly despised mid-story when the OFC gets pregnant. I've been considering the ending (which is by far, a LONG way down the road), but it's a bit difficult. Could the story survive without Bane or Chance, if one were to die first...? Is an epilogue beating a dead horse? Thoughts? Oh, as always, do enjoy this chapter. :D_

City in Pieces

Chapter Sixty: One Down Confirmed

Awoken by a probing thought, the Lieutenant stirred from a restless sleep. Her awakening made her aware of how close she was sleeping to Bane. He hadn't relinquished his hold of her body throughout the night; his powerful forearms still clung to her petite waist; his fingers were interlocked to keep her still. With some difficulty and outwardly grunting to get ouf his vice, she managed to pull away, but sported some bruising on her mid-section. She strode to the darker side of the room. She glanced at her lover. He stirred. For a moment, she thought her absence of presence would disturb his slumber, but he uttered a sigh, then lay still.

Chance's mind raced. She had wanted to know what happened with Gambol. _Did they kill him?_ It poked at her brain. _Maybe they decided against it._

_Really?_ She could feel her cynicism hit home. _Are you serious? That hopeful, Chance? _

"Maybe it's just a hunch..." she whispered to herself.

Chance sat at a desk and turned on her laptop. The odds of Ace filming the rest of what happened was very likely. Chance wondered if she could go into file folders of the computer; Ace, no doubt, couldn't have resisted filming the entire session. She craved Joker's affections like an intoxicated drug, and anything to amuse him would have been her high. Ace would film every moment with that clown, even if it was a gruesome death..._Or perhaps just staged.._

Chance's optimism resonated in her mind, like an angel and the devil arguing on her shoulders.

_Ace was always a good actress._

_Yeah,_ thought Chance coldly, _Remember when she was _pretending_ to kill you..._

"That does have some bad repercussion..." Chance thought aloud.

Her eyes glowed bright blue when the white of the screen flashed in the room. Chance turned the laptop immediately away from Bane's side of the room; the light poured into her face. She appeared death pale compared to the usual exposure of flourescent.

_Hasn't been much exposure to the light of day anyway,_ Chance thought, glancing at the walls.

She searched the files. Apparently, Ace was well-organized. She had used a TouchStone—Gotham's luxurious cameras. Touch screen, voice-recording, speaker-capable, long battery-life, perfect landscape capture: in layman's terms, a photographer's best friend. Ace surely had knicked one of these babies either from the inventor of Touchstone himself (which was less likely), or had come across some nerd walking alone in the street and got if off him. But Ace was no mugger on the street.

_Poor guy must be swimming with the sewers by now,_ Chance considered glumly.

She found a video that was dated earlier in the night. Ace evidently wanted to remember them so fondly.

_No,_ _no, _Chance's mind pondered sarcastically, _that's not at all creepy...How much of a serial killer can you be, Ace?_

Chance clicked on the video. Black screen, but voices. Chance turned down the volume to the bare minimum. Living in the dark, Chance's hearing enhanced greatly over the years: no cars speeding through traffic; no booming music in the earphones, not even loud whistles in the night—her ears could listen. Chance watched the laptop screen in anticipation. But even when the screen popped into color, she already knew what had happened—or what was going to happen, following the film.

Chance watched as Ace held the camera up to the door. This must have been where she had exasperatedly cut Chance off the show. Ace's hand was in the way, showing the audience the same bodyguard that had requested Ace to state her business. Ace's hand fell away, showing the bodyguard's face.

"What's with the thing in your hand?" he inquired the video recorder.

"You've got some odd choice of words, boy," said Ace's voice, slightly irritated.

Chance had effected her by then.

"Just let her in, man," said a voice behind the bodyguard.

"She's got people with 'er," said the bodyguard in return, yelling over his left shoulder.

"Just do it. Joker's dead, what does it matter?"

"I don't like it..." muttered the man in front of Chance's view.

"Don't worry, sweetie. You can join us if you don't wanna work with that cad anymore," cooed Ace in a very feminine voice.

Chance questioned it. It was never like Ace to be a woman of charm. After all, Chance was always the head of the department. There was nothing charming about a woman slicing a man's throat, but according to Joker, she was wrong. The scene moved as Ace entered the room.

Room with a pool table, a juke box, a bar...

_What is this, a 60's movie?_ Chance thought ridiculously.

Then again, Gambol was named that for a reason. Chance scoffed. And he lost most of everything he bet...Chance knew. When they worked together, he challenged her to a game of Black Jack. He followed his own rules; she followed hers. The only difference was that she could count cards.

Ace sighed.

"Hey, Gambol," introduced the bodyguard.

The crime boss stood in the billiard room like he owned the place. He was in a nice suit, as usual, black tie. His shoes must have been shined by God's own spit—anyone's reflection would have appeared in those black flats. Ace's contempt for the man was clear when he looked at her, and she stayed silent. He glanced at her. Shock on his face.

"Well," he said in a resigned sigh, "look who actually took the hint."

"I only take what I want." Ace retorted to him coldly. "Then I give back a little."

Gambol looked amused.

"Is that a business offer?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

_Don't try anything, dick,_ Chance thought, staring at Gambol's profile.

"You couldn't even handle me," said Ace cockily.

"No, you like to man-handled, don't you?"

"Give me my fucking money, prick." Ace said irritably.

"Show me the body." Gambol said, waving a hand at her. "What's with the camera?"

"I like to remember these fond memories," said Ace coldly.

The camera pointed to the three goons who had followed her inside, carrying Joker's body. They pushed Joker's body bag onto the pool table. Ace reached for his hood and pulled it off in one steady motion. Chance was impressed. He really _did_ look dead. And she wasn't the only one who believed it. Gambol looked pleased. He turned to Ace, obviously impressed with just how easily she went through her grief.

"Well...Dead. That means you get five-hundred—"

Joker sprung from the pool table like a eager, small dog—faster than Chance had ever seen him move. He withdrew a knife from somewhere, might have been hammerspace. Even in his plastic trash bag around his form, he appeared intimidating. Joker withdrew more than just one knife, she realized; he killed his bodyguards, leaving only two left to live. The two that remained were taken hostage by Ace's buddies, who were grinning at the scene. Ace's filming hand was unsteady, rushed with delight, evidently. Thoguh Chance could see a crazy grin clearly on Joker's face. Chance wondered when he became so gruesome-looking. Ace was chuckling so audibly, it was a tad sinister. Joker wrapped a firm, purple-gloved hand around Gamol's neck. He slipped the sharp blade into the moist slit of Gambol's mouth, pulled the skin so gently, though made Gambol's cheek taut.

He was, searching for a better word, stunned, at Joker's revival.

Ace circled them, much like a hungry scavenger waits for a dying animal to draw its last breath. Anted anticipation for one blood thirsty woman.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" Joker said easily.

_Oh, no..._Chance thought. Joker's tales were stretched from being abused by an alcoholic father to being abandoned by a beautiful wife; Chance didn't know exactly which story was which, or if Joker just liked the idea of having options, but she stopped trying to understand for a while. He seemed to like telling them to people who would, in other words, learn how to take things a little less seriously...whether they wanted to or not.

"My father was drinker and a fiend," he began. "He beat my mommy right in front of me. One night, he goes off_ crazier than usual"—_his voice escalated wildly—"so Mommy takes the kitchen knife to defend herself. He didn't like that. Not. One. Bit..."

_Okay, he's actually starting to freak me out..._Chance thought, staring at Joker.

"So, me watching, he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. Turns to me, and he says—" he coined a fond tone before falling into a dangerous voice—"_'Why so serious?'_"

_Dear God..._Chance's mouth opened slightly.

"And..."

He turned to the camera. He stared right at Chance. With a shrug, he asked,

"Why so serious?"

Ace's shrill laugh echoed against the walls as Joker took the blade across Gambol's mouth so easily. Ace filmed Gambol falling to his knees. He glanced up at Ace weakly, bleeding perpetually.

"Smile..." She hissed delightfully. Her hand came into view. A finger wiped blood from his chin. "Smile...for the camera...Come on. Show me..." Ace slipped her fingers into his mouth and pulled on his slit cheek. He howled in agony—Chance winced as Ace filmed his pain. He cried out in dismay. God was not merciful to him. Ace chuckled darkly then pushed away Gambol's body.

She filmed Joker, who took off the plastic bag with simplicity. A smile on his face.

"Make sure to dispose of him." Joker noted to her. "Oh, no, wait, I take that back. Are you taking these notes?" he said, stopping again, looking at her.

"I got it all up here. What do you want?" Ace might have gestured toward her twisted noggin.

"Send him to Maroni in a body bag. Put a little bow on it. You can choose the wrapping paper," he added.

"Oh, goody!" she said excitedly.

Joker turned to the two remaining body guards.

"Now, our organization is small, but we've got a lot of potentials for _aggressive_ expansion." He snapped his fingers at Ace. "So which one of you would like to join our team?"

The two bodyguards squabbled. But Ace handed Joker what was Chance could make out a pool cue from the billiard table. He mused over the pool cue, then snapped it over one of his knees. He examined which end was sharper.

"So," he continued, tossing the decided end of the cue on the floor, "we're gonna have..._try-outs..._" A sigh. "Make it fast."

The camera was off.

Chance stared at her blank screen.

Gambol wasn't part of the deal, but it wasn't a dealbreaker. She could handle Gotham on her own as long as those two clowns stayed out of the major part of her city, which was where the sun didn't shine. Gotham's reckoning would take place below the ground. Eat itself from the inside and out. Poetic.

One down...about two or three to go. She half-hoped that Ace would show some mercy toward the Chechen. And give Maroni one for her.


	61. Just a Kiss Goodbye

City in Pieces

Chapter Sixty-One: Just a Kiss Goodbye

Chance didn't go back to bed. Instead, she scoured the videos that Chance had never seen in Ace's folders. The contents were graphic, something derived from a tortured snuff film like _Vacancy_. Joker's free-range carelessness had rendered Ace to do anything she desired, and it appeared that she had her own torture room. Red light was the main subject in each film. The lights made it difficult to distinguish between blood and water, but the thickness of the substance was there. Cameras were posed at each corner of the room. In each folder of Ace's camera, there were several videos that contained the room. Chance watched through them.

Ace's brutality was vibrant, ruthless, and ever more dangerous than Chance had ever thought of Ace to be capable. The sheer smile on her face never left. She hit her subjects with crow bars. Punched them hard, kicking their stomachs. In all circumstances, each subject had a sack over their heads, unidentified and unaware of Ace's next move.

She watched them, disturbed.

Ace was a killer.

She didn't realize it was morning until Bane was up and moving about. He switched on the bedroom light. He glanced at her from across the room.

"Chance."

"Oh..." Chance said, startled. She looked up; her eyes were tired-looking. A glimmer of exhaustion fought back in her smile. She closed her laptop.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "Have you been up all night?"

Chance yawned.

"Just...searching," she answered.

"Searching? Your eyes are blood shot." Bane said to her. He pointed to the laptop. "What were you watching?"

"Ace had videos in a file," reported Chance dutifully. "I was perusing them at my leisure."

"You look like you've watched a rape." Bane told her.

"It's some serious carnage, Bane," explained Chance. She glanced at the laptop as if to see Ace in it, "I've never seen so much torture."

"You said it yourself that she's dangerous. You've known for a while."

"Well, it's different seeing it from another point of view," she rebuttled, shaking her head. "This was more than just teaching someone a lesson, or interrogating for information. She mutliated the people...Cut them up into pieces, left them for dead, crying out for mercy." Chance shook her head. "No one should be given that sentence."

"If Ace has the moral placement like you, the odds that those people led a conscious life are low." Bane diplomatted, shaking his head. "Go pack. You must leave Bulgaria."

"When will I see you again?" asked Chance gently. She rose to her feet.

"Hopefully, very soon," Bane said. "Once you control the situation with Joker, you may have to take flights from Gotham to Bulgaria. It's all part of being my second-in-command. Make sure you remind Daggett that now Ace is not in command; you are. Assure Talia that she no longer has to mind regulation over the sewers. Once Daggett makes a deal, offer him a request to see me.

"He also has a man working for him named Phillip Stryver. Keep in touch with him as well.

"And when you meet Lick, exile him."

"I know to do that," said Chance seriously. She was referring to the conflict of Lick. "He betrayed us. He deserves nothing more than to leave."

"He should actually die," Bane clarified; Chance gave him a look. "I know that you feel his pain, though. Ace was the one who committed the crime against him. She's valuable, and we can't lose her. Exile Lick, tell him never to return. If he does then," he held up a finger, "then_ you_ must kill him."

"If police should find our Headquarters...?" offered Chance.

"Why would they uncover our hide-out?"

"Things have happened." Chance guessed.

"Do not let them follow you." Bane told her gently.

"That should be easy," said Chance sarcastically. "I'm only one of the most wanted criminals in the world."

"Pack, Chance."

Chance nodded. She raised her head and kissed him on his cheek.

"What was that?" he questioned calmly.

"The last time I left you, I didn't think that I would ever see you again." Chance answered just as mildly.

"I always know if you're in trouble," he said, indicating the head set in her ear.

"Maybe one day, I'll save you for once," Chance muttered, smiling.

"Hope to one day, you won't have to save me." Bane replied.


	62. Exile

_Author's Note: Joker fans (I know one of them has been reading this story religiously), you will be happy to know that, yes, this story actually will go all the way through the movie. If that hasn't been clear, this is true...That's why this story's like, what...Sixty-freakin' chapters long. I wonder how long will let my story go. Ha, well, we'll see won't we? Don't worry, Bane Girls, he won't be gone long. Keep reading, and as always, enjoy the chapter. _

_Here. We. Go._

City in Pieces

Chapter Sixty-Two: Exile

Ace was informed of Chance's return as soon as she boarded the plane back to Gotham. Ace wasn't surprised that her old friend was returning to her hometown. It was only a matter of time before Bane sent her back to the old city. Chance was escorted from the airport then to the sewers of Gotham. Below, she found Talia al Ghul waiting for her at the ad hoc command center, sitting on a desk. Lick was stationed beside her, also awaiting his sentence. When Chance entered the room, Chance's captain rose to his feet instantly; his bright eyes glimmered at his mistress, hoping to acquire at least _some_ appreciation toward his misgivings. Chance glanced at Lick with a passive gaze, only turning to Talia, who wore a look of knowing of what to come. Otherwise, she looked pleased to see the third heir to the League of Shadows.

"You look magnificent," said Talia. Chance had forgotten just how sexy her exotic accent was. Chance simmered slightly at the sex appeal that Talia beheld; though she reminded herself that it was Chance that was sleeping with Bane. _Now I feel a little better._ Talia pushed herself off the desk and wrapped her arms around Chance like an old friend. Not used to being embraced, Chance flinched slightly, but nevertheless, appreciated the greeting.

"You obtained the physicist," congratulated Talia with a large smile as she stepped back. "I'm so glad. I thought this would take years, but here you are!" She was ecstatic. "The wait will be a few years, though, Chance. I haven't been able to get Bruce to take in my investment of the hydrator. And I can't even get a word with him."

"Can't you just throw one of your parties?" said Chance derisively. _Flashy parties with the small glasses and the too-small samples of food that whet your appetite..._

"You mean a ball." Talia said with a notably curative tone. Maybe she actually _liked_ the dances enough to correct Chance's tone. Chance shrugged.

"Fine. _Ball._"

"He never has gone to them anyway." Talia said. "The most unfortunate detail of the Wayne Family isn't that they were never the type to selfishly succumb to the belligerent 'parties'." She rolled her eyes. "It's all a stage, if one would ask my opinion."

"I wasn't." Chance muttered, staring off to Lick, who watched her. Chance's attention rallied to her captain.

He had been so loyal. He had affronted his duties to her by going over her head. Chance didn't like to punish anyone for loyal intentions, but being upstaged by someone that she thought she could trust was not a pleasure either. She confronted him. He met her eyes. In them was not deceit, not even remorse for what he had done. It was sadness. Talia might have told him what was coming, or maybe he had known from the moment she left the sewers to confront Ace.

"You are a good man," Chance assured him. She set a hand on his shoulder, squeezing comfortably. "A good man, with malice in your heart." She shook her head. "Ace is a helping hand in this situation. And you forced Bane's when you lied." Chance gave him an accusatory look. "How could you lie, Lick? How could you say that I was bringing Ace information to rat out this whole operation?" She bored into Lick's gaze.

"You...made me out into a betrayer. I took years to gain Bane's trust. You conflicted it..."

Lick shook his head.

"Ace is a killer, Ma'am. You'd be dead."

"You lied to Talia, love," said Chance sympathetically. He stared, open-mouthed. His blue eyes were watering. "You lied to the League of Shadows. Though," she added compassionately, "I appreciate your watchful care. You sensed trouble, you tried to warn me. Had it not been for you, you're right; I would be dead." She took her hand off his shoulder. "You spared my life. For that, I'm sparing yours."

A look of shock crossed his features, but he didn't fully understand.

"You're not killing me...You're just sending me away...?" he was trying to understand. Chance nodded slowly. Even for his loyalty, he was being abandoned for his attempt at the right. Talia watched the scene. She might have understood the broken heart of the homosexual lad who thought of Chance as an older sister, but the League of Shadows was not only a family. They were still an operation, undergoing secrecy. Lick sacrificed that when he conflicted the confrontation.

To Lick's dismay, Chance stepped away from him.

"Disarm, Captain," she said, pointing to the weapons on his hips.

He looked as if he were being told to leave Gotham itself.

"But...I..." Lick tried to argue.

"Please," said Chance resolutely. "Don't make me ask again."

Lick pulled off his belt, setting aside his guns and ammunition. Chance watched him withdraw several weapons from his suit. He gave her a look, one of crestfallen shame and misunderstanding.

"Lick," said Chance, "you are hereby exiled from the League of Shadows. If you should come back, you will force my hand; I will have to kill you. If you should go to the government, there are eyes watching everyone, men in location all over the world and our city. They will kill you onsight if you should whisper anything...if I don't meet you first. Rest assured, if I should be the one to carry out my deed, your death will quick and painless." Chance watched his retreating back as he walked passed her solemnly. "For your after life, that's between you and God."

Talia watched two men escort Lick out of the center. She turned to Chance.

"Your first exile. It wasn't too bad, was it?"

Chance glanced at Talia icily.

"He was one of the best soldiers we've had, Talia. It isn't a pleasure."

"Well, one day, it will be. You'll have to get used to disappointment." Talia sighed, sitting against the desk. Chance frowned at her.

"The day that I'm used to being let down will be the day I forfeit my legacy of this League," Chance told her seriously.

The Lieutenant indicated the monitors.

"Where's Ace now?"

"Well, they haven't done much since your last conference call," updated Talia conversationally. "But from what I've been told via Ace's revenue is that there is an off-beat opportunity that Batman might know where Lau has been transferred to, for his safety."

"Lau thinks he's safe in Hong Kong." Chance scoffed, shaking her head. She peered into the computer screens. "The mob...Richest motherfuckers in this city...Not very smart, whatsoever. Harvey Dent's jurisdiction only casts its white light so far. Lau has mistaken the vigilante for a man of little money." In clarification, Chance said in an amused voice,

"Batman _has_ no jurisdiction."


	63. Lau's Deal

City in Pieces

Chapter Sixty-Three: Lau's Deal

Chance located Ace and Joker in the same warehouse where she had been injured. They apparently redecorated again. They shed the carnival lifestyle and went with a very macabre slash Gothic architecture. The walls were black. There were more tables in the entrance area. Chairs were askew all over the floor. The thrones were replaced by a podium and some seats behind it. Most of everything looked like it had come cheap, or picked off the black market. It was more of a gangster setting than the lunatic-psycho ward at a wild, haunted theme park. In any case, Chance still considered pouring kerosene on the floor throughout the warehouse and lighting the damn thing on fire. It would take out the smell of flesh, which circled in the air like smoke. Denying that murder never existed in this place would be like trying to tell a lion tamer that his clients didn't have teeth...or tails.

_More like a big middle finger,_ Chance thought, thinking that _that_ was a better description.

There were several bodyguards, maskless, scattered about the room. They merely glanced in Chance's direction, only recognizing her from what could be imagined was either a good description of the returning partner, or perhaps a good photograph from a Before and After clip.

At any reason, they didn't mind her. Chance stood in the middle of the hall, waiting for Ace to "Come a-courtin". The wait was impatient, but Chance managed to rack enough tolerance to see that the twisted killer came out from the door way, wearing a large smile. She somersaulted off the stage and stood in front of Chance, smirking.

"You look great." Ace commented. Hands on hips, she appeared surprisingly stunning in a t-shirt and jeans. Chance half-expected her to come to the meeting wearing only a few bits of string, but it looked like her old friend remembered to get dressed.

"You shouldn't have killed Gambol," opened Chance abruptly.

To the rude greeting, Ace rolled her eyes. She batted away at the responsible complaint.

"Woulda', shoulda', coulda'—That fucker had it comin'." Ace dismissed. The beautiful siren approached one of the men. She draped her hands around his shoulders; the said bodyguard looked split between smug and disturbed. She had that effect on them, still. Chance's eyes fell from the man's eyes to Ace's gaze.

"Like the new security force. Our new ones are quite agile compared to the lost stock." Ace raised a hand and patted roughly on the man's chest. He collapsed slightly under her touch. Chance didn't blame him. Anything, except perhaps Joker, that she touched died a little inside. Ace chortled at the goon's uneasiness. She relinquished her drapery.

"Anyway, so you're upset about Gambol's sudden death? You must be the only one." Ace withdrew a stick of beef jerky and chewed on the end. "Because," she said, swallowing the bite, "I _ did_ send that body to Maroni. You know what I got back in return?"

"A crudely handwritten note?" suggested Chance, unamused.

"A wine bottle, some scones, and a small post-it note that read 'One less customer'." Ace said with a large smile. She laughed raucously. Chance winced. Then her serious face was clear. She shrugged and tossed the half-eaten stick of jerky to the floor. She chewed feverishly. "You know, this stuff is hard to get down the throat..."

"Most people down take in a whole half of jerky." Chance retorted.

Ace swallowed.

"I was told," continued Chance, "that you know that Lau is being kidnapped by the Batman."

"Know? It's a hunch, friend," Ace chuckled. "Mr. J said so himself. Batman's not afraid to get those bastards. And he knows which one will squeal. Mr. J always said he knew the squealers. And Lau...Well, I'd refrain from doing business with him, if you know what I mean."

Chance approached her.

"What, so Batman's going to deliver?"

"Lau to Harvey, Harvey to County...County." Ace smiled serenely. "How long do you think Lau will last in that place, hm? I've seen the inside of that pit; it's like a madhouse in there, all to itself. But I was never a victim. But Lau will be." Ace cried out a shriek of laughter. "I'll give him fifty minutes."

Chance gave Ace a look. Was Ace taking it seriously?

Ace shrugged,

"But we all know how corrupt the system is. Lau will get off and walk before Maroni and all of them say 'he's lying."

Chance shook her head.

"Ace, Ace, Ace, you never paid attention in Business Law, did you?" she criticized.

Ace jeered, dismissing her friend with a roll of her eyes.

"What are you getting at? That there's a loop hole in the system?"

Chance gestured for Ace to follow. They sat down at a table. Bodyguards surrounded them.

Ace listened, watching Chance certainly.

"When Harvey and I were working together," began Chance reminiscently, "he used to give me details about cases that he won and what we could use against the law if ever we should get into some trouble."

"Well," Ace retorted, "that doesn't surprise me."

"You didn't let me finish." Chance snapped at her.

"Then what's the point?"

"I'm getting to it."

Ace gave her a look. Impatiently, she gesticulated for Chance to continue.

"Harvey told me about a RICO case. All these people joined in their proceeds from their dealerships, and the entire crowd was prosecuted under one criminal conspiracy. _All_ of them were taken to court, and _all_ of them were jailed. Fifty counts of fraud, sixty-many counts of extortion...It was a big mess. But one of the judges was brave enough to step in and do it." Chance said.

Ace nodded. She chuckled slightly at Chance's gull to assume that all of mob would confess.

"Maroni's not going to give in so easily, Chance," said Ace, shaking her head.

"He doesn't have to confess." Chance stated clearly. "If Lau gives the DA names of his clients and tells them where there money is, how long do you think that Maroni will evade prison?"

Ace's face ashened.

"The money isn't safe." Ace understood Chance perfectly. "Lau _is_ going to squeal."

"Yes." Chance retorted.

"Then what's stopping us from getting Maroni and all of them out of town?"

Chance shook her head.

"If it's all the same to you, Maroni and all of them are safer in jail then out." Chance indicated Ace with a wave of her hand, "You'll be nailing every one of them eventually. You got Gambol."

"He was a bonus, dude," Ace shrugged it off.

"Ace." Chance said coarsely.

"Look, the only reason why Lau would still be alive is because Lau is the only person who knows where the money is," Ace told Chance calmly. "I wouldn't have to do anything, anyway. If the Chechen found out that Lau was the squealer, he'd be dead anyway."

"Not if he's in witness protection," Chance told Ace.

Ace gave Chance an exasperated look.

"Dude," said the killer, obviously aggravated, "I could torture the fuck out of Lau and then get the information that way. If he dies, so what?"

"You can't just grab that man out of thin air. He's important." Chance criticized.

"I don't follow your rules," retorted Ace, leaning over the table. "I stopped doing that, remember?"

"Those aren't my rules," snapped Chance hotly. "Lau will be held in custody for questioning. What are you gonna do, Ace? Blow up MCU and get him yourself?"

"What if he doesn't go to County, Chance?" asked Ace impatiently.

"He'll be granted immunity, probably," answered Chance gently. "He'll ask for it, too, and a plane back to Hong Kong."

"Surely they wouldn't place him in County, though. Those men would have him for lunch." Ace said, giving a funny look.

"If I know Harvey, he'll want that man in chains and in County."

"Gordon won't." Ace disputed. "He'll want Lau to be held in a jail cell."

Chance shrugged.

"Well, in any case, Maroni and everyone else—all the mob—They've got their people in Dent's offices and Gordon's department. Lau isn't safe, whatever the cost."

"What do I tell Joker?" asked Ace uncertainly.

"Well, he's going to decide what to do whether you tell him that Lau's heading for County of being held in a cell." Chance sighed. "Joker's always been his own man, hasn't he?"

"Yeah." Ace sighed in admiration. "He's a genius." She glanced at Chance. "In any route, Joker will be ready. He even knew that you were coming back."

"Then I guess he should be ready to get the mob their money..." Chance relayed. She shook her head and muttered,

"I can't believe I've been sent back here to deal with this shit."


	64. Bar None

City in Pieces

Chapter Sixty-Four: Bar None

Relieved to know that Ace didn't have cruel intentions for their relationship, Chance left the warehouse, unscathed, but didn't intend to go straight 'home'. Although the night promised secrecy and a cover, she didn't want to make the mistake of leading anyone to her lair. Instead, she acted on a hunch that even though Dent seriously wanted Lau to go straight to County Jail, he would give the right of way to Lieutenant Gordon, the second-in-command to Commissioner Loeb. Chance had a slight upper hand, knowing Harvey's previous ways—and the fact he gave her inside information of everything. Harvey Dent, respected District Attorney, still knew his place among the law enforcement, even if he didn't like it. She held little admiration for him.

Chance inquired about the restaurant that was long ago owned by Ron Burgundy. According to Ace, Daggett had relinquished the pleasantries of the buffet and tea time to a guy in Maroni's department. It was a second holding, a place where crime lords could nestle and no one could touch them. Chance wasn't exactly pleased to hear this from an old friend. Ace explained to Chance that when she left, the crime rates went sky-high, which was around the time when Maroni took the job as the Don of the Falcone Family way too seriously. Instead of negotiating with Daggett, Ace informed Chance that Maroni took the restaurant with little else. Daggett's funding and respect toward Chance's fancy diner had been turned into a safe haven for the mob.

Needless to say, Chance was disappointed. She requested Ace to come with her, but Ace declined. Ace's loyalties to Chance had been flunked when she was abandoned; her bodyguard protection and adamant behavior belonged to Joker's services and his needs. Chance would have to earn that trust all over again.

Chance left Ace with the knowledge that in return of Ace's candor (which was the sparing of her life a second time), Chance informed her re-formed ally that a stay beside her in the League of Shadows wasn't entirely terminated, though she deterred from naming the cult altogether.

At last minute, Chance was stepping toward the entrance of the renamed restaurant, The Daily Grind, when Ace popped up beside her, reconsidering the offer. Ace had been curious about Maroni's reaction to Gambol's body. She wanted to see the results of her carnage.

Chance entered the restaurant lightly, taking in the derisive changes. The elegance and elaboration that Chance's old homage had once presented was defecated with ruined wallpaper, hard barnwood tables; a sloppy bar with several beers instead of cocktails on the shelves; wooden bar stools instead of modern chairs; and the lighting that was provided by a chandelier was replaced by rows of lights. Chance's own elegance that she had put into the restaurant was soiled by the corruption and hard-earned lifestyle of greedy, crooked men.

Ace stood behind Chance with an unsurprised look on her face. She whispered onto Chance's shoulder,

"I told you that they messed this place up."

"They did that when Daggett stopped funding it," said Chance, obviously disgusted by the scene.

"Daggett's explanation to me," said Ace—Chance turned to look at her cohort—"was that he didn't feel the need to appraise a restaurant owned by, quote—unquote: 'A woman who is literally 500,000 miles away'." Ace's face wasn't amused. Chance guessed that although her old friend held a grudge of her sudden abandonment, it still bothered Ace that Chance's investments lay shattered in the crowd of thieves and crooks instead of in the wealthy arms of a shady, though well-off business man.

"Why didn't he contact me of this?" said Chance coldly, indicating the entirety of the establishment.

Ace gave her a knowing look.

"You were in Italy, dear," she said sternly. "He wasn't going to tell you at all until you and your boss came back from Europe to do what you all intend to do in the long run. That would have taken _years,_" said Ace pointedly, indicating the length of time with a wave of her hand. "But obviously," she sighed with a smirk, "he was mistaken.

"Maroni's got men circling Gotham. He's not stupid. Obviously, he anticipated you to come back at an earlier time, unlike Daggett."

"I am supposed to be threatened by a group of cut throats?" inquired Chance, relatively arrogant.

"Chance," Ace criticized heavily, "you may know all about fighting and probably, you're quite the pins and needles when it comes to mind control, but they don't care if you're here to ask for a bargain or if you're wanting to make Maroni die all together. Those '_cut throats'_ you're referring to are the ones who will serve your food sprinkled with arsenic." Ace moved her chin to designate the bartender, "Even _he _might be under Maroni's wing."

"But Joker said it himself that people used to be afraid of him," Chance argued seriously.

"Used to be?" Ace said critically. "Those 'used to be' people are the ones who _work _for Joker himself. Those who are afraid of him work for Maroni." Ace shrugged her shoulders. "Money isn't the only thing that can buy loyalty. Fear is the ultimate price to pay if you want to save a life."

Chance stared at Ace. Too much time around the clown, she was insane, but the intellect in her brain apparently was only enhanced by Joker's life lessons. Chance turned from Ace to peer through the bar.

Just where was Maroni?


	65. What Did You Do?

City in Pieces

Chapter Sixty-Five: What Did You Do?

"It's not the fact that her tits were hanging out," joked one of Maroni's men, "it's the fact that the curtains didn't match the drapes." The crowd around the table guffawed at his dirty joke. Maroni was amused. He rose his hand and made the gesture for a waiter to bring home another round of drinks. He sat back in his chair comfortably. He looked at this audience.

"The second thing that needs to happen is—whoa!"

His chair was pulled back; Maroni fell with it, landing on his back on the floor. The men at his table reacted, rising to their feet immediately. Maroni struggled to look around to see what happened. Ace's voice instructed the men of the table to remain seated, along with the rest of the room of the bodyguards. Maroni, slightly stricken by Ace's voice—his face showed some uneasiness—looked straight up. Chance stood right over him, peering down at his surprised face. Chance looked up to see Ace holding two shotguns in her hands. She had evidently decided to toss away the poker money and glasses off the table and stood on it to make a point. She turned slowly on the table in her boots, aiming her two loaded barrels at each man in turn.

"Ace." Chance sighed.

"You wanted control the room, I got it," Ace dictated, showing the room with the guns.

In a bored voice, Chance retorted, "Ace...Get off the table."

_Never will I ever understand how we worked together so well,_ Chance thought as Ace climbed down, glancing at her as if her fun had been ruined. Chance bent down, half-glancing at her cohort with some irritation. She peered down at Maroni with a smile.

"Back again, Bremly?" Maroni welcomed with an uneasy grin. "You must be the one who dumped my chair on the floor."

"In an original world, that's where piles of shit usually end, but apparently, this restaurant keeps crap as company." Chance stated tactly, frowning. "What did you do to my restaurant, Sally?" Maroni struggled out of his predicament. Ace watched him, amused. Maroni rose to his feet, dusting off his suit. Chance folded her arms across her chest.

"I simply knicked it off foreclosure," he invented with a loose smile.

Ace scoffed, "Liar."

Chance gestured for Maroni to sit down. He remained standing.

"All right," Maroni said, giving in, "I took it from Daggett. That man's got more property than anyone I know; but I offered him a good sale, didn't I?" He tried to get Ace to agree; she merely stared at him with a look of daggers. He refrained from looking at her. Ace wasn't on his side. He momentarily forgot that Ace and Chance weren't a duo—she was Joker's pet, not anybody else's.

"You offered him a _sale_?" Chance said in a deadly voice.

"Daggett should be the one to face you, not me. It was his fault that he didn't warn you," said Maroni defensively. "Besides, I didn't even know that this was your establishment to own. You were gone for so many years, this business was on foreclosure."

Ace howled in a sing-song voice loud enough for everyone to hear, "_LIAR!_"

Chance glanced at her.

"Ace has been updating me on what goes on in Gotham's walls for the last month or two," reported Chance. Maroni's face fell. "In case you have forgotten, I was still present during your menstrual meeting with your people. Surely I won't have to remind you about Gambol."

Maroni seemed unsurpassed by the aforementioned deceased.

"Gambol was a reckless die-out. He was more aggravated with intrusion than he was buying off dealerships."

Ace chuckled, leaning against the table, and said,

"Don't act so smart, Salvatore; you haven't the need to sound so sophisticated. Gambol wanted to buy the entire world." She turned to Chance. "Gambol didn't follow the rules about not spending money all at one time. Cops were all over his hide-out when he bought a million dollar suit." Her brilliant eyes turned to Maroni. "Joker's got the suit now. Gambol wouldn't have ever pulled it off; Joker looks great in it, though."

Chance rolled her eyes. Maroni looked at the returned Lieutenant.

"What do you want now?" he asked wearily.

"Now?" asked Chance. "I want a drink. Tell your buddy over there to hold the arsenic."

Maroni nodded. He glanced at the still barkeep and gestured. Chance noted with disappointment that Maroni was using sign language. She frowned. Ace followed Chance's eyes; she apparently caught the indignation. As the waiter took the beer from the bartender and set it on the table. Ace stopped Maroni from touching the glass bottle neck.

"I wanted to give it to her," said Maroni incredulously.

Ace shook her head.

"No...Why don't you," suggested Ace, handing the beer to Maroni, "take the first sip?"

Chance smirked at Ace. _Good girl._

Maroni snorted at Ace's suggestion.

"There's nothing in it but the booze." Maroni explained.

Ace frowned.

"Do it, Sally."

Maroni shrugged. He popped it open and drank from it. Chance waited. Nothing.

"I won't poison an old ally," said Maroni, understanding the reasoning.

"Oh, yeah..." Ace sneered.

Chance took the bottle nevertheless and drank from it.

She smiled at Maroni, who seated himself in front of her. Ace remained standing.

"What do you want, Chance? Why are you back in Gotham?"

"We succeeded in a goal in Europe," Chance informed him. "I have been sent back to Gotham to take care of this side of the world for a later destiny." She side-glanced Ace, who already knew, of course, about Bane and the future end of Gotham.

"So what's your purpose?" Maroni asked.

"To help you." Chance sighed.

"With what?"

Chance grinned.

Ace decided to answer that with this:

"Lau is going to squeal like a stuck pig."

Maroni stared.

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't apologize," exhausted Chance. "Ace and I have decided through deliberation that Lau wants to save his own ass. You and your Russian friend are about to go to jail unless you knock him off."

"What?" Maroni chuckled.

Ace frowned at him.

"Lau is not to be trusted." Ace said seriously.

Maroni glanced at his body guards.

"I'm not hearing the rest of this."

Ace started to say something, but Chance rose to her feet, dismissively.

"No, no, no, Ace, come on. If Salvatore Maroni"—Ace stared at Chance incredulously—"chooses to ignore our warning, then he will do so in his peace. I bid you farewell, Sal..."

Maroni watched her go. Chance smiled.

"Thanks for the drink. Hope you enjoy County."


	66. Ace's Advice

City in Pieces

Chapter Sixty-Six: Ace's Advice

Ace and Chance sat together in a poverty-stricken bar club. The owner didn't pay heed to them; as paying customers, the bartender would gladly have served them delicacies from silver platters. The two girls threw a wad of cash on the counter top, to the barkeep's surprise, and they both smiled at him expectantly. He counted the money load, then gave them an impish grin.

"Bad day at work?" he observed the two of them.

"Not yet," stated Ace with a beautiful smile.

"We don't come here a lot," said Chance informatively when the bartender concentrated his scrutinized gaze on the pair of his new patrons. Chance had an idea that her face was widely popular in the big clubs, but in a small rut like this where they only served beer and called it fine ale, or served nachos and cheese and called it fine dining—She was only safe if he didn't pry. At this point, anyway, she wasn't exactly in peril, neither of them were.

This type of bar didn't register offenders. Carmine Falcone once squatted here when the officers and judges were closing in on his barricade. Top dogs in the higher-paying fields and those with extra notches on their belts kept their customers confidential.

The bartender didn't concentrate on their faces much longer, owing to the fact that Ace was starting to give him a cold stare. Chance half-smiled at her. Ace could be a good friend, but Chance would always remember that it was the crazy nut beside her that almost tried to assassinate her. Ace snapped her fingers at the barkeep. The bartender had been gazing at Chance for a moment or two with a slight dazed look. Chance watched the man shake out of his reverie then retreated to the back with two shot glasses.

"What'll it be?" he offered, indicating the masses behind him, a long range of bottles, though Chance had an idea that althought the packaging was impressive, it could have been all the same product floating inside the necks.

"Which ever will get us drunk faster," Ace answered.

"I'm not getting wasted on account that my diner was taken from me." Chance corrected her, declining the choice of alcohol that the pleasant barkeep had selected. He chose an alternative to Ace's request, something less harsh to the liver. Ace shrugged and tossed back the shot, setting it on the table.

"Keep 'em comin', baby." Ace told the bartender. She turned to Chance. "Don't you think that you need to have some time to relax? I understand that your beau doesn't give you much leeway."

"I don't need 'leeway'." Chance retorted, taking the shot glass gingerly. She sipped it.

Ace made a '_pfft_' sound, rolling her eyes. She reached for a second shot and tossed it back. Coughing slightly, she recuperated. Chance watched her drink.

"What are your intentions?" asked Ace, inquiring the diner.

Chance considered her options.

"Bane wants me to keep the fire rising, so to speak," added Chance when Ace gave her a questionable look, "but I need your help."

"I was told that you would be supervising Joker's rendezvous with Gotham. I was never told that I would have to assist you in world domination."

"This isn't about world domination," said Chance off-handedly. She sipped the tonic from the glass. She liked it; she gestured for the barkeep to give her another. "It's pruning a very bad tree," she finished.

The clinking of glasses chinked the air when the bartender handed them three shot glasses.

"What did you have in mind?" Ace said, raising the glass to her full lips.

"Where's Daggett now?"

"He shifts from location to location." Ace answered. "But word around the dogcatchers is that he has a hotsy-totsy who lives in Old Town."

"Old Town, the holiest of holies?" asked Chance.

Ace chuckled, "That's a bizarre way to put it, but"—she slurped up the shot of vodka—"yes."

Ace gave a shrug.

"Apparently he likes 'em young."

"He's got a twinkie?" asked Chance, amused.

"Yeah. Thinks they bode him welll for his attraction or whatever." Ace rolled her eyes. "The guy's a sick man."

"Sick? You're one to talk."

Ace gave a mirthless chuckle then tossed back yet another shot.

"I'm a killer, not a pervert."

"I've seen you do some weird shit, Ace."

Ace shook her head.

"No, not yet." Ace said in a reverent tone.

"Where," asked Chance slowly, "does this girl live?"

"In Old Town, it's known as the slums." Ace informed her. "Apparently, she's in this apartment. Daggett's into paying her for sexual favors. When he does, she gets the money up front, and then they do their business, then he leaves and she's got a heavier pocket in her holy jeans."

"What's her name?"

"She goes by the name of Holly Robinson."

"Holly Robinson?"

"Yeah. Know her?"

"No..." Chance shook her head. "Name doesn't ring a bell."

Ace tossed a hand away carelessly.

"She won't say anything unless you pay her."

"I don't have to pay her in order to make her talk." Chance said, drinking from the glass.

Ace shrugged.

"I wouldn't bother with any street walker. She's got some important clients in the city that would miss her if she were to suddenly..._disappear._" Ace mimed a Houdini impression, flicking her fingers. But she snorted abruptly and reached for the sixth shot of Vodka. "Whatever."

"A prostitute gone missing? Is that something the city's concerned about?"

"Dent's after the mob rather than Joker," said an amused Ace. "Does that answer your question?"

"Right, right..." Chance muttered.

"Anyway, what is finding Daggett going to help you? You told me that you needed to wait until he asked whatever he's going to ask. Not my professional opinion, but shouldn't you wait until you're in mint condition before you go rattling his cage?"

"To his mind, I'm not even in Gotham." Chance explained. "Maroni said so himself that Daggett's under the impression that I wouldn't have come back. You said it, too."

"Look, Chance, I think it's terrible what those people have done to your diner. In all respect that it deserves, it really was a nice place, but it's just property that can be burned to the ground. Even more so now that Maroni's turned the place into a fire hazard," added Ace with a slight edge.

"Maroni and all of them are going to end up in County," said Chance. "They're not my problem."

"It's not just them," said Ace, "that run the town, friend. There are bigger dogs in this city."

"The Carmine Falcone's don is Salvatore," said Chance. "I don't think there is anyone higher."

"Oh," laughed Ace, "you still think this is Italy?"

Chance gave her a look.

"In Italy, people were frightened of Bane," said Ace, indicating somewhere off behind Chance. "He's massive. He's freaky-looking. Only you know what's under that mask of his. But he's not here. And people aren't afraid of him here. They fear the mob." Ace shook her head at Chance. "You still think it's the people that run this city? No. No..."

"The mob is people." Chance pointed out. "If I could convince them—"

Ace laughed again. "Convince them? You can't convince them of anything without shoving a pistol up one of their asses and declaring that there's a bang flag inside it. You were gone for six years, Chance. _Six years._ The mob knows that you were this big-time person with whom I had a great time working, but when you left, you lost your authority of persuasion."

Chance listened to Ace, slightly disappointed.

"If you want something done," said Ace, "you have to do it yourself."

"So what are _you_ suggesting?" asked Chance coldly.

"Don't go after Daggett's prostitute." Ace said straightly. "Find Daggett. He's always working into the night at Daggett Industries."

"I can't just waltz into a—"

"Who said anything about waltzing?" Ace argued.

"I'm not supposed to blow my cover in this city." Chance said, uneasy.

Ace gave her a look.

"Oh, boy, then what are you doing here in a bar with people around?"

"The police can't know I'm here."

"How do you know that none of these asses here are officers, Chance? Face it, friend, you're losing your touch."

"I haven't lost my touch." Chance said assuredly.

"You have," retorted Ace almost certainly. "Look, Chance. Find Daggett first. Confront him. Then we'll worry about the mob later."

"Fine."

"Cheers?" Ace offered her a glass of vodka.

Chance sighed effortelessly and clinked her glass to her friend's shot glass.

"Cheers."

They wrapped their arms together and drank from their glasses.


	67. I'll Let Him Fall

City in Pieces

Chapter Sixty-Seven: I'll Let Him Fall

Daggett Industries was not as elegantly-designed and massively critiqued. While Wayne Tower was built into the very heart of the city of crime and chaos, Daggett Industries or Daggett Enterprises (both names were interchangeable), was built a few feet from Wayne Enterprises. It didn't tower over the city like a protector in the sky, not as well-lit over the Gotham Transportation Railroad lines. Daggett Industries had a horizontal, quadrilateral architecture: it covered more land than it did air. Build from brick instead of stone and steel, it was the epitome of indifference, though the brick layering was initially supposed to resemble that of a homey build of a casual home. Daggett Industries' windows were tinted and blinded by black curtains, hidden from prying eyes. The parking lot was underground. Two tunnels led into the area. Even the lot was not as impressive as Wayne Towers. Chance would know. She had seen the lots of Wayne Enterprises. Much more of a grandeur than the pits of loneliness that stood beneath the shady stone of John Daggett's establishment.

Ace and Chance arrived by bus transit. The driver let the women down the ramp impatiently, closing the doors abruptly to speed off the exit to catch the green light. Ace, who had been up in the Daggett paradigm, led Chance through a shaft in the wall. It was not a secret entrance, but one that was less traveled by. Ace and Chance ascended flights of stairs. Chance could smell the alcohol in the atmosphere. Ace practically radiated a drunk stupor, but Ace's steps were straight. Ace could handle the drinking life. She didn't do it out of misery; Ace simply enjoyed a taste of the brew.

"Daggett installed these stairs to avoid the press," noted Ace in the dark. Her voice was almost dripping with sinisterly malice. Perhaps Ace was hoping to run into a rebellious rookie cop. Chance couldn't remember if beer mellowed Ace or aggravated her blood thirsty habits. Ace's low voice of a feminine caller didn't distress the situation. Chance was just aware of how menacing her friend could be if nobody knew who she was. Chance followed Ace's steps into the staircase.

"Why would he avoid the paparazzi?" asked Chance. "He enjoys the night life as well as the attention. Goodness knows he wants the people to think that he is actually helping them..."

Ace gave a rather cynical mirth,

"Oh, do I hear some restrained irritation?"

"It's not irritation." Chance said, using the railing for support as they ascended the flight. Ace didn't use the help of the rails, merely toughing it out on the small steps. Her footsteps were so light.

"If you're going to destroy everyone, what's the point in trying to restrain yourself, Chance? I don't," replied Ace.

"Bane wants to pull the social elite to their feet, make them live like the rest of us have had to do." Chance informed her, her breath becoming slightly hollow.

"If he's going to do that, why doesn't he let Joker do it? Joker can do more than just upset a few people by blowing up a car." Ace informed Chance, who shook her head wordlessly in the dark. Ace shrugged and continued to follow the lead. She chuckled, "It seems to me that your Bane has issues with everyone."

"It's not an issue. He's the leader of the League of Shadows. Fulfilling a destiny."

"Destiny?" Ace questioned doubtfully. "You two are star-crossed lovers, aren't you?"

"I don't know what that is supposed to mean," said Chance cluelessly.

"This man, or whatever he is—he seems to care a lot about you if he is willing to spare your life and kill everyone else in this city." Ace stopped for a moment, holding a hand out to stop Chance as well. Chance looked at her.

"What? Are we there?"

"No, we have a way to go," said Ace lightly.

"Then what is it?"

"Out of curiosity," Ace began gently, "when Bane was going to destroy Gotham, were you ever going to come get me and let me have a way out?"

"It was something worth thinking about, yes." Chance said.

"I love this city," said Ace admirably, indicating the entirety with two hands. "In its own way, I could never leave."

"You must if you want to get out alive. Bane and I agreed to give you that ticket out of town when the process would begin. He won't spare you because you love Gotham."

"Would he spare me because he loves you?" said Ace pointedly.

"I don't see why that has to apply to this situation." Chance said, pushing past her friend. Ace stopped her. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

"I would risk everything to save Mr. J," said Ace seriously. "If saving him meant for me to toss myself off the side of a building, I'd let him count off and I'd do it."

"I can't say the same for me," admitted Chance.

"Then you and Bane have nothing?"

"It's something."

"Then you would do what you could for him," said Ace persistently.

Chance sighed, reserved.

"I can't do what I could for him," she said. Ace stared at her. "I was told to do what I do, and I can't fulfill my responsibility, do not do it all. It's a cross that all the League of Shadows must bear. So if it was up to me to save Bane, or if he should save me, I can't say that I would try my hardest to do so."

Ace shook her head at Chance.

"Well," said Ace with a sigh, "if I should dive in front of you to save your skin, I'll do it with the certainty that it will be done." A pause. "Unless, of course, I decide to use you as a human shield, then I would not have saved you at all...Seems quite stupid when I put it in your terms, doesn't it?"

"Walk." Chance ordered, pointing up the stairs.

Ace did so wordlessly.

They came to a door. Ace jiggled the handle. Unsurprised that the door knob was locked. As Chance watched her friend withdraw a knife and lock pick from her suit, Ace said in an amused voice,

"Oh, these Muggles. They'll never learn."

Ace broke the lock under three minutes. It clicked. Ace pocketed the knife and lock pick and turned the door handle. They were greeted by two men sitting in a lounge. It was a room to itself, most likely the VIP section of Daggett Industries where John D and his playmates could piddle around with nothing but enjoyment to fill their schedules. The two men seated on the comfortable couch in front of wide screen TV were John Daggett himself and a second man, Stryver.

Chance recognized the two of them with distaste. Unlike Wayne Enterprises, these men didn't try to help the city around them by holding charities and auctions the like. They took the earnings of loyal tax payers and used their profits to squander it on useless items like the end tables and wine cabinets that circled the room with arrogance and pride.

Ace gestured for Chance to step inside the abode. When Chance approached one of the end tables, she knocked on the the wood twice. Ace said loudly,

"Knock, knock. Who's there?"

Daggett and Stryver jumped, turning immediately from the TV to gaze at the two most wanted women in Gotham. Ace entered the room after Chance, closing the door behind her. Ace took the knife from her secret pocket and shoved the damn thing straight into the door knob's little lock hole, jamming the device. Only she was the one who knew how to withdraw the blade without getting the door stuck. Ace wandered through the room calmly, passing the two startled gentlemen to pull down a full-body blind over the door and the windows.

"Oh, my," said John Daggett, rising to his feet slowly. He glanced at Ace, who folded her arms to watch the scene unfold. "This," said the owner of the building slowly, hesitantly, "is quite an...unexpected..._pleasure._" He chose the word with tension in his throat.

"I have to say," said Chance, "that you have some odd way of prioritizing."

"I guess you must have seen the diner, then." Daggett replied, unafraid.

"Seen it? I was in it. I don't like the decorating. Much to dreary and dingy for my tastes." Chance said, approaching Daggett. "Get the mob out of my restaurant."

"It's no longer yours, it's Maroni's." Stryver pointed out.

"Get him out, I said." Chance said, approaching Daggett, ignoring Stryver.

"I said," said the second man, annoyed, "that it's not your diner anymore. It's Maroni's."

"Leave us." Chance instructed Stryver impatiently.

"I will not be ordered around by some bushy-tailed—" Stryver began irritably, but Daggett raised his hand to stop him.

"Chance is here with Ace. You know that's not anybody we should toy with; leave us." Daggett told Stryver.

Chance and Ace exchanged knowing looks. Nothing like a popularity contest. Chance waited for Stryver to pass her.

"Oh," noted Chance, "and if you're thinking about going to the police, I'd make sure that you know who is on your side and who isn't."

"I'm not threatened by you." Stryver snipped at her.

"By the man that I represent, you should be," said Chance, meeting his sturdy gaze.

Stryver strode pass her, but he showed uneasiness as he did so. He looked at Ace, who stood in front of the door.

"How am I supposed to get out?" he inquired, staring at the door that was penetrated by Ace's knife.

Chance glanced behind her to see Ace smirking.

"Ask me nicely," said Ace, giving Stryver a look.

"I don't have to ask you anything."

Ace shrugged.

"Perhaps I can give you another way out then."

Chance watched Ace take Stryver's hand. Daggett stepped anxiously forward, looking at Chance uneasily.

"Please, woman, I don't want anything to happen. He's a good co-worker of mine."

"To tell you the truth," said Chance curiously, "I actually want to see what happens."

"He's no concern of yours!" said Daggett, frustrated.

Ace pulled the blinds and opened a large window.

"He's not your problem!" Daggett cried out to Chance, watching Stryver be slowly pushed over the edge by Ace's strong arm.

"Then I don't have any use of him," said Chance, watching casually as Stryver's waist lifted over the window sill. Stryver begged Ace to stop pushing him out the window. Ace merely listened to his pleas.

"Please, please," said Stryver, grasping Ace's suit for support, "let me go."

Ace chuckled and turned to Chance,

"It's a bit heavy-handed, isn't it?"

"Please, don't hurt him," Daggett called from the middle of the room.

"Help me, John!" Stryver yelled from the window.

Below, traffic roared.

"Quite a fall, don't you think?" said Ace callously. She tossed Stryver out the window, holding him by his legs. Daggett stepped forward hurriedly. Chance held up a hand to keep him at bay.

"Chance, stop her!" Daggett said angrily.

"Get Maroni out of my restaurant." Chance instructed calmly.

"Help, John!" Stryver cried out into the mass panic outside.

"I'll set him free!" Ace threatened. "I'm not strong enough to hold a 240 pound of scum!"

"John!" screamed Stryver as Ace flicked her wrist. He fell a few inches. She held onto his knees.

"Phillip!" Daggett roared.

"The deal, Dagget!" Chance said impatiently. "I'll let him fall, don't think I won't!"

Ace waited for Daggett's reply, but there was nothing. Ace stepped onto the window sill and heaved the poor man by his foot, dangling the shady partner out the window like a tasty worm on a hook.

"JOHN!" Phillip Stryver screamed.

"Fine!" Daggett screamed hoarsely. Chance smirked. She turned to Ace, who shared the malicious grin.

Ace stepped down from the window sill and threw the sweaty politician back inside the office. She closed the window. Stryver turned to her and scampered away from her on his bottom. Ace leaned against the window glass, folding her arms across her chest. She leered at the two men as Daggett approached Chance furiously.

"How dare you make a mockery of me!"

"Get Maroni out of my restaurant. It's a rendezvous for classy couples, not a gathering for your shady business deals, John," Chance said coldly. "Whenever you need that favor, you let me know."

"How do I know that you'll fulfill your bargain?" said Daggett, puffing smoke.

"Trust me." Chance said. She indicated Stryver. "I could have easily let him fall."

Ace approached the door. She took the knife handle and pulled. The door clicked so easily. Ace opened it swiftly. Chance waved goodbye. Together, the girls left Daggett Enterprises, once more succeeding in extortion.


	68. Sending a Message

City in Pieces

Chapter Sixty-Eight: Sending a Message

Under 24 hours the next day, Chance was given word by a fellow agent of the shadows to flip on the monitors and turn the camera to her restaurant. Wearing her hair in a messy ponytail, donning a robe over military fatigue, Chance tapped quickly on the control command keyboard, supervised by a curious crowd of members of the League of Shadows. Rookie teenagers and lost men surrounded her as they watched the monitors.

By Chance's re-claimed restaurant, there were many police cars circling the lot, blocking off traffic lanes. Many officers in fatigues crammed into the building, holding guns in their holsters, some of them drawn. Several occupied the seats, some hid behind opened doors. Chance watched the Lieutenant James Gordon emerge from the dimly lit doors, holding one very disappointed Salvatore Maroni by his hands, chained in metal shackles. The Chechen was brought out with him, held in place by Ramirez. Wuertz left the building, escorting many of the thugs into the officer vehicles.

"Looks like all the crooks are being arrested," commented the rookie agent who had stirred Chance from her rest.

"Looks like." Chance said, watching Maroni's face harden into stirring anger. "Our dashing DA has worth after all these years. Way to go, Harvey..."

"Ma'am?"

Chance disregarded her last comment, throwing the respect she had for her ex-lover to the wind.

"Nothing," she muttered, shaking her head. "But I highly doubt that all of them will be able to stay jailed. Daggett will find a way bail them out, I know it."

"Should we act on that suspicion?" questioned the rookie.

"No. Never mind it." Chance declined. "I gotta talk to a woman about a plan."

"Ace?" offered the rookie.

Chance nodded. "Ace."

Chance found the warehouse where she found Ace and Joker before. She entered the large opening of a room. Ace was leaning against a wall. Her crimson hair was braided in one ponytail down the side of her shoulder. Chance approached her questionably.

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting," said Ace with a smile.

Behind the wall upon which she leaned, there was a wail and then a howl of laughter. It made Chance jump; she glanced at Ace, who didn't even stir. She smiled.

"What's that?" inquired Chance with a finger.

"Mr. J at work. What's on your mind?" offered Ace, glancing at her fingernails with interest.

"What do you mean 'Mr. J' at work?" asked Chance, glancing at the wall uncertainly.

There was talk behind the wall. Ace was standing in front of the door.

"What is going on?" said Chance.

Ace shoved her hand in her pocket and handed Ace a rubber cowl. Chance examined it. It was the mask of Batman.

"What is this?" said Chance carefully.

"Fraud."

"What?"

"When you left," informed Ace, "there was a sudden rush of inspiration from the public. There are men in the streets pretending to be Batman."

"When you say 'pretend'...?"

Ace smiled.

"They have replicas of Batman's armor, from his utility belt to the mask. Mr. J has one of them in there"—she inclined her head to the closed room—"and he's sending the public a message. Mr. J is having some fun in there, Chance."

When her friend gave her a look of serious inquiry, Ace shrugged it off, inclining her hand at the room.

"It's aggravating when you're trying to unnerve a super hero and all you get is a fool in hockey pads."

"What gives them away?" Chance wondered aloud.

Ace bent down beside her. Chance watched with closer observation that Ace held up a pistol.

"Guns," Ace said obviously. Then, "So, Chance, have you seen the news?"

"I have."

"Seems like you've done a good job, doesn't it?"

Chance scoffed, "It won't last."

"Of course, it won't." Ace said seriously. "I was given information from an inside hired gun."

"Which is...?"

Ace leaned against the wall again.

"The Chechen and Maroni want to hire Joker to get the money back and kill the bat."

"They just decided this?" asked Chance. "They were arrested."

"Of course, they were," stated Ace calmly.

"Ace, fill me in," Chance muttered sternly.

"According to the gun," began Ace calmly, "549 criminals were put before Judge Surrillo, who was the only other judge who, now, is as enthusiastic about justice as Harvey Dent...courtesy of you. The head guys—Maroni and the Russian—will be able to get out on bail, but the thugs won't be able to afford the way out. With this many people out of the job, off the streets, it's going to be like Black Friday for cops, surrounding every crime shack and whore house to get the worst criminals in line and into orange pajamas." Ace shrugged her shoulders. "The more annoying criminals will be behind bars for about six months, I imagine."

"Eighteen," Chance corrected. "I worked with Dent long enough to know that."

"The only reason," said Ace, "that Dent's getting away with this is that Gotham loves him now. Even when before he was an ass." She gave Chance a dirty look. "You could have told me that you and Bane were helping him become good again."

"You and I were on good terms then," said Chance honestly.

Ace rolled her eyes.

"Now that the public has seen what Dent can do, they'll think that he can catch Batman."

"Nobody can catch him, Ace." Chance criticized openly.

"Think so, huh?" Ace gloated. "That's what you said about yourself. I caught you."

"This is true," admitted Chance shamelessly. "But Batman is not a stranger to you or me. He thinks he can figure out how to play us."

Behind the door, there was some serious talk, then Joker's voice emitted through the walls,

"_Look. At. Me!"_

Chance stared at the door. Ace, though, winced slightly.

"Why is he interrogating him?" asked Chance curiously.

"I told you; he's sending a message. Joker talks a lot," said Ace. "He wants Batman to step up and take off his mask." She smiled proudly. "He's good, isn't he?"

"Why is he talking to himself?" asked Chance, listening to Joker's prattle.

"He's filming himself."

"Why aren't you in there doing that?" asked Chance.

"He told me it's a one-on-one sort of situation. I don't mind it. He'll be pod-casting it over iTunes and on the television screen, city-wide." Ace said. "Watch the TV. It's gonna be fun."


	69. UTEO Part Two

Author's Note: Hi, Readers. This is a Bane chapter, so yay!

The City in Pieces

Chapter Sixty-Nine: U.T.E.O Part 2

"I'll place the monitors on City Hall," reported a common agent of shadows, leaning over Chance's seated body to adjust the computer settings. Chance glanced up from a folded _Gotham News_ newspaper to see the assisting man. She checked his uniform briefly, then noted casually,

"Your pants are unzipped, sweetie."

Embarrassed, he straightened and pulled up his fly, turning red. Chance didn't react to it. Instead, she folded the newspaper neatly on the desk and turned to the monitors. The normal chaos on the street was bantered with the morning antics of getting to work on time and trying to catch the local school bus. Nothing more than the routine. Chance was waiting for Ace and Joker's plans to happen. She glanced to the television that was erected against the wall. Across the banner of the screen were reports of theft, muggings, and the occasional close of the stock market. The man beside Chance gazed at her attire.

From the black market, a discharged Marine had taken off with several company acquirements that belong to the National Guard, Army, and the Navy. To his own accordance, he had knicked the entirety of ammunition and guns, grenades and explosives, and several delicate boxes of TNT and sticks of dynamite. For a price to earn him enough ruffage to feed a city and a ticket to get out of the country, Chance was given all of this by the former veteran. Now she dressed her Ken Dolls in military fatigues. She adorned a Marine uniform, boots and all.

Feeling his eyes on her, Chance looked up to see the man still gazing at her.

"Can I help you with anything?" she asked him.

"I was curious about Bane."

"He's in Bulguria with Pavel, setting the situation's critical details and preparing a well-designed plan for the future annahilation of this city that is Gotham," informed Chance briefly without blinking. The man declined the explanation with a small shake of his head.

"His plans for you...I mean..."

"My orders are to hold the fort while he is absent." Chance told the agent.

"I've been talking to the rest of the League, Lieutenant," began the agent delicately, "and they are concerned about whether or not Ace is such a good person to include on this expedition."

"Ace is a happy accident," said Chance.

"I am speaking for the group that we don't trust her."

"It doesn't matter." Chance flatly stated. "Bane wants me to keep her alive. Alive, I shall."

This man didn't argue the point any further. He nodded, turned on a pivotal heel, and marched away. Chance sighed irritably.

_It's like I have to tell them this all the time._

Chance was turning to look at the monitors when a sudden vibration pounded against her thigh. She immediately took a cell phone from her trouser pocket and slid a finger across the touch screen. A very bright message was sent to her. The banner across the screen read _ACE_, and the high lighted portion of the message was: "_Turn on your TV. If this isn't unnerving the city, I don't know what is. ;)" _

Chance didn't know what was disturbing: the fact that she was calm enough to send a text message, or the fact that there was a winky face at the end. Chance didn't pay heed to it much longer. The recruits in the room with her stopped their work and turned to the television automatically when the small news was cut into a large title _Breaking News._ Chance turned in her chair to see that there was a hanging in the middle of City Hall. Chance turned the monitors exactly to the coordinance of the television film to see that a swinging man in a Batman costume was hanging from a flagpole. A letter was tacked onto the rubber suit. On television, it zoomed in to see that the letter read in capital print: "WILL THE REAL BATMAN PLEASE STAND UP?"

On the TV, the banner read across: _Batman Dead?_

There was a rise in the room. Chance stopped the recruits in the room with her from leaving.

"Sit back down. That isn't the real vigilante. Sit," she repeated, when they stared at her, flummoxed. "I said, _sit._"

They obeyed like good dogs.

"But, Ma'am," said a rookie teenager in Navy WU's, "What if it is him?"

"It's not." Chance said confidently.

The recruits lowered themselves to their seats uneasily, but didn't want to inflate their substitute's temper. Chance turned back to the television, glancing at the monitors as construction workers started pooling around the flagpole to get the dead man down from the top. A man named Engel was given the word to speak to the public. Chance observed him. A top anchorman.

"The Police released video footage found on the concealed body. Sensitive viewers beware: the film following is disturbing..."

Then the show switched over to a recording. Chance assumed that Ace's enjoyment for the upcoming iTunes podcast was this on the screen. She glanced at the new arrivals to the League of Shadows who had yet been trained by her. They were disturbed at the new set on television. Chance's eyes fell on the wide screen, observing the true nature of Joker when he was alone in a room with a victim.

The image was of one of the Batman frauds, bound to a wooden chair by his arms and feet. He was portly man, unlike Bruce Wayne's ripped Bat, who was still, though Chance could assume correctly that the man was frightened. He was beaten and bloody, probably on Ace's behalf. The room was small, brightly lit with a flood of flourescent light. Then a voice over began gently, though Chance could recognize Joker's voice instantly. He was, of course, the one filming it.

"_Tell them your name._" Joker said out of view.

Weakly, the fraud said, "Brian...Douglas."

Joker asked, "_Are you the real Batman?"_

"No..."

"_No?_" laughed the Joker, though his take on a joke was more sinister and dangerous. Chance admitted that she was frightened of Bane whenever he was unaffectionate, but she could always know that Bane had a certain ambivalently soft side; Joker was...unpredictable. "_No?_" Joker repeated with an edge. He reached for Brian Douglas's mask.

"_Then why do you _dress up_ like him?" _Joker's voice dropped in aggressive baritone. He jerked the mask off the man's face, along with the blind fold. Joker toyed with the mask, bouncing the rubber material jokingly before tossing it away.

"He's a symbol," said Brian, attempting a bold effort, "that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you."

"_Oh,_" said Joker in a mockingly sympathetic voice, "_But you do, Brian, you really do." _Joker's purple-gloved hand smacked the side of the man's face quickly. Brian moved uncomfortably. Chance was right there with him. Joker seemed so much more menacing than the last time she had worked with him. The recruits around Chance moved uneasily. Apparently the feeling was universal.

"_Do you think Batman has made Gotham a better place? _Helped_ the city?"_ Joker asked lightly.

Brian nodded uncertainly. The Joker cooed something, then said,

"Look at me."

Brian turned away from his face. Then the familiar growl that Chance had heard before,

"_Look! At! ME!"_

It made the rest of the room jump. Chance glanced at the recruits bizarrely; how were they ever going to train if this was frightening to them? But Chance had already been shown the worst parts of a man's life. Though she was certain that this was the last time that Brian Douglas would ever see the light of day. It was accurate, for he was dangling outside on the flagpole.

The camera swung from Brian to Joker, who held the camera up to his chalky-white face, his red lipstick smeared onto his painfully marked scars. Chance saw the men in the room wince slightly. They hadn't seen Joker face to face, and neither had the entire rest of the city. Chance felt her stomach drop lightly, seeing Joker so close. He was smiling, of course.

"_This,_" he inclined himself, "is how _crazy_ Batman has made Gotham. You want _order_ in Gotham? Batman has to go. So...Batman must take off his mask, and turn himself in. Every day he doesn't, people will die. Starting tonight. I'm a man of my word."

Then Joker laughed hysterically; Brian Douglas behind him cried out behind him. Just before the film went to static, Chance saw the door open and Ace walked in. Then the static. Chance watched the news be switched to a brighter tomorrow. It was a newscast about a fundraiser being held at Bruce Wayne's penthouse suite for Harvey Dent's campaign. Chance turned to the recruits, who were hoping to hear something nice.

"That," said Chance, inclining the video footage, "is what we have to put up with until Bane says otherwise."

"Seems a lot of waste of time," said one of the braver rookies.

"Waste of time, hm?" said Chance. "I—"

But she was interrupted by a sudden static on her laptop screen. She realized after a few seconds that Ace was getting a hold of her via webcame. Ace sat in front of the screen with a wide smile on her face. Chance gestured for the rookies to climb out of her cage and give some privacy. From the screen, Ace watched the men file out of the room. She gave Chance one of her doubting grins.

"New suitors for a lonely commander, Lieutenant?" said Ace flirtatiously.

"Not important," dismissed Chance.

"Did you see the breaking news?"

"That was a bit over the top, don't you think?" said Chance with little disapproval in her voice.

"U.T.E.O operation, part two, buddy," Ace sighed, leaning back against furniture.

"What?"

"Upsetting The Established Order, Part Two," clarified Ace. "It's a working progress. We've got it all out, Chance. No need to worry." She indicated the television behind herself. "You seen the gig about how Wayne's setting up a fundraiser for Dent?"

"Yeah, just a few minutes a—" Chance started to finish but another window opened on her screen.

To her surprise, it was Bane. Chance stared at him. He was in a dark room, though behind him, she could make out the outlining of a television growling in the background; the same headlines were crossing her own television. Ace clicked her tongue and turned off her screen to avoid Bane. Bane's eyes met Chance from the across the sound and light of the webcam.

"What," he said in his deep, echoed voice from behind his mask, "is this?"

He indicated the television news behind him.

"Hi, sweetie," said Chance sweetly, smiling at him. "Bane, it's all part of the—"

"Hanging dead vigilantes from poles and casting it over the media is—"

"It's not—"

"_Do not_ interrupt me, Chance."

Chance bit her lip. She recoiled at his tone. 500,000 miles away and he could still frighten her. Amazing.

"Why is it," said Bane tiredly, "that whenever I leave you in charge, something goes awry?"

"It's not gone _awry,_" Chance retorted bravely. "I'm handling it."

"I saw the news, Chance. It's obvious that you haven't been keeping up with the charges."

"I have it under control."

"Daggett as well? Is he under control?"

"Yes."

"I doubt it."

"Why?"

"Recently? I doubt your word because I've checked into your account and it seems that you were out $100,000 and—"

"That was no fault of mine; Dagggett let—"

"Chance."

"It _was_ Daggett's fault," argued Chance, leaning into the computer.

Bane stared at her.

_Wow, when did I grow balls big enough to argue with him?_ Chance thought momentarily, but continued on. _Why stop?_

"Daggett lost my shares in the restaurant and gave it to the fucking scum bag, Maroni—I got it back. We're still one-hundred thousand in the positive. Daggett relinquished that property under the impression that I wouldn't retun to Gotham until we had Pavel. He didn't think ahead. _I _got it back."

"I'm not liking the tone." Bane told her.

"The tone is affronted and offended that you would doubt my capability to run this operation on my own, Bane," said Chance indignantly. "I am handling it."

"How did you manage to gain Daggett's shares in that investment?"

"Persuasion." Chance said certainly.

"With the help of the neurotic serial killer?"

"Ace helped, yes, but I lost my authority in this place when I left with you."

"Your authority? Have you lost your senses completely?"

Chance's turn to stare at him came.

"Bane, I am not physically endowed like you. I can't use muscle or strength to frighten others. I have words and voice."

Bane shook his head.

"Never mind any of that. How is the operation?"

Chance accepted his indirect apology.

"Joker and Ace, I think, are planning to crash the party at Wayne's penthouse." Chance reported.

"You think?" Bane inquired.

"I _think_, because before you signed on, Ace was talking to me about the fundraiser." Chance indicated the television behind him. He turned in his seat. Chance glanced at her own telly to see that the news banner still streamed the announcement of Bruce Wayne's assistance in Dent's campaign.

"This wouldn't be an entirely bad thing," advised Chance softly, as Bane returned to look at her.

"One fundraiser with Wayne," said Bane, "will set Dent for life."

"Of course." Chance agreed. "His pals practically swim in gold."

"Not the point," disagreed Bane. "Once Dents ordinates himself with someone as exclusively respected as Bruce, the public will take a shine to him ever more. It's more than likely that the media is also fanning his retribution to the crowds."

"Well, once something happens to Dent, if the public should hate him, then he'll be going down the proverbial toilet." Chance told him.

"Even a White Knight tarnishes after being in the sun for too long, dear," he said wisely.

"Maybe he won't have to stay in the light that long," Chance muttered.

"Are you considering mucking this up a bit earlier than anticipated?"

"I'm not considering anything. For all I know, Ace and Joker are going to do that."

"I want you on the walls of their operation, not running through the room," Bane instructed sternly. "If you should participate in their party-crashing, stay well-concealed. As far as you restaurant is concerned, I'm not sure why you hold it in such dire vice. After all, once Gotham is pitched into the dark, the respect and nobility that it holds for romance will shatter inevitably. Tell me about Daggett and Stryver."

"They understand that I work for you." Chance stated. "It's clear enough that whenever they request a favor, it will be their call."

"That's good enough for now." Bane accepted honestly.

"How's Pavel?"

"Living."

"Has he agreed to the terms?" asked Chance curiously.

"We're working out a deal."

"It's not like you to compromise, dear," Chance retorted with brutal honesty.

"His family is not far, Chance. It would be easier for him to concentrate if they should suddenly arrive in the Ohio River."

"Bad day to be him, then," replied Chance casually.

"Avoid being seen at the party, Chance. I'll speak to you later."

"Toodles," Chance farewelled, closing the laptop.

Chance sighed. _Every time he calls, it's like a notch in my stomach. _

She searched the desk drawer. _Busy, busy day. Surely Bane must keep some Aspirin...Oh...Wait._

"Have you forgotten who he is?" Chance told herself scornfully. "Aspirin...My God..."

_He doesn't even eat like normal people..._


	70. Joker's Push

The City in Pieces

Chapter Seventy: Joker's Push

Across the television screen, a football match against Gotham Rogues and the Tennessee Titans flashed in bright yellow and black colors. The season's match was supposed to be an easy-peezy, lemon-squeazy one, due to the fact that the Rogues were their own army without the help of endurance training. Any of the football players could handle their own against a bull in a rodeo; they all were most likely—

"Packed with steriods and shit, you see those guys play in the real world? Never," said one of thugs in a reclining seat.

Joker glanced at him with slight annoyance. The goon's name was Hans, a man who, in his high school years, had been one of the bespectacled nerds with a high potential in the world that flunked his final exams and turned to crime for moral support. Joker's face showed little amusement in his comment. Joker had some expertise in the field of football—pun unintended—and although he enjoyed the tackle and occasional suffering in the sport, he didn't much care for outsiders heating on one of the city's actual positive accomadations. Or at least, that's what Chance believed.

"If ever you were a football player," said Joker, taking a juice box from the fridge, "you would be smashing your own face against that dirty window frame over there."

Hans looked at Joker uneasily. He had hit one of Joker's small nerves.

"Gotham's wretched, don't underestimate that. But they have a good league." Joker pitched the juicy fruit box at Hans with more force than intended. It squirted crazily in his face. He licked his lips uncertainly along the trails of Welsh Grape, unsure of what to say.

Chance glanced at Ace, who was perched comfortably on what-was-assumed-to-be-called the kitchen counter, her feet propped under her knees, nearly eye-to-eye the standing clown in his classic purple suit. Chance propped her body against the arm of Hans's recliner, though the man didn't seem too comfortable anymore.

"Show some respect, for your sake," said Joker to Hans. He turned to Ace. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting here."

"Get off the counter."

Ace nodded obediently. She honored his request, sliding off the surface easily before perching on a nearby bar stool. Chance crossed her arms and tapped the side of her forearm impatiently.

"Why did you call me here?" she said, becoming slowly frustrated. "I have a migraine."

"Hangover," explained Ace abruptly when Joker turned to her for a possible excuse.

"It's not a hangover, I handle my booze well," said Chance shortly. "Why did you call me here? To watch a football game?"

"Of course not," said Ace, slipping off the stool. She approached Chance with a smile. "We want you in on the fun."

"Whenever you say 'fun', dear," said Chance, unamused, "it never means 'fun'."

"Shut up," Ace said, entertained. "You have to be getting some enjoyment out of all of this."

"By 'this'," said Chance, air-quoting, "do you mean by ransacking Gotham?"

"You can't tell me that Bane never let you do this out of the sweet relish of doing it." Ace mocked with a delightful squeal.

"He must have been," said Joker without looking at anyone in particular, "must have been a dull dud..." He glanced at Chance, "in his younger years." He pushed himself off the counter edge and approached her, holding a rifle in his hands. "What are you so grumpy today, sweetheart?"

"I'm not grumpy." Chance retorted, glancing at the firearm. "And I'm certainly not _your_ sweetheart."

Joker turned to Ace, who shrugged at him.

"She's always like this when she's done talking to Bane."

Joker nodded, opening his mouth slightly to flick his tongue across his lower lip. Chance narrowed her eyes at him when he looked at her in understanding.

"Did Daddy reprimand his little girl?" he asked Chance with an amused quirk in his voice.

"This not a game." Chance said seriously, standing her ground.

"A game? Well, you're not having fun?"

"Joker, you're supposed to be taking all of this seriously."

"Seriously? What game is taken seriously? You didn't have a great childhood if you were down-to-earth while playing Candyland or Chutes and Ladders. Then again, when I played that game, I climbed ladders and my dead playmates when down the chutes." He added with a finger, "_Laundry_ chutes. Strangely, bodies can fit through there if you use enough force to get 'em through the small holes."

He stepped toward Chance swiftly, standing right there in her face. She didn't budge. She wasn't afraid of him personally, but the way he was putting things made it seem too strange in perspective.

"All it ever took," said Joker—he lowered the firearm to the arm of the recliner; Chance moved away from the chair to avoid being pinned to it by he and the thug sitting in it—"was a little push."

"Seems like it took more than that to happen to you," retorted Chance boldly.

"I sense some uneasiness." Joker said gently, though there was that dangerous look in his eyes. Chance didn't have to listen to his voice; Bane could veil his anger with gentle words before he could hit her in the face—she wouldn't see it coming.

Behind Chance, Ace watched in trepidation. She didn't know whether to laugh or ask her lover to dial it down. But in all reality, Chance knew that Ace wouldn't stop him. She enjoyed the act—such performances could be done in an actual theater, but this one...Ace didn't have to pay to see it.

"I'm not uneasy," said Chance, staring into Joker's face. The dark eyes appeared to her. His scars looked more gaunt and deeper. The red lipstick darkened in the dim light; it appeared to be blood. And the black charcoal around his chocolate eyes made his face ever more like a blood-slit skull.

"Really?" said Joker tenderly.

"Concentrate on the matter at hand." Chance said. _Why was he freaking her out? Bane frightened her—Wasn't Joker less of a man than him?_

"Oh, so you want to change the subject? All right," sighed Joker, shaking his head slightly, "what if we followed our game your way?"

Chance found herself backing away from him. His flats knocked on the wooden floor quietly, but in her mind, they pounded as if she were running from him.

_Fight the nervous clench in your gut, girl!_ Chance thought angrily. _Consider the—_

"How about," said Joker, shrugging his shoulders, "we let you throw the ball, and we'll see where it lands? How about _you_ try to sink Gotham to its knees, and then we'll collect once you're finished? But, wait," he cooed, "you were ordered to stay hidden by a guy that's five-hundred _thousand_ miles _away_."

He mocked her in an amused voice, "Well, that would put a dent in your whole plan—Pun not intended—wouldn't it? How could a clever girl like you disrupt this city's proportional morale without being seen? I don't _have_"—he moved close to Chance suddenly—"to hide my face behind a mask!"

Chance bumped into an end table that randomly appeared there. She immediately grabbed a hold of the edge, cornered by Joker, who was smiling widely at her.

"I don't have to show the people of this city that I'm quite a different person than who they are. I'm not spilling lies—I'm spilling a lot _blood—_" he chuckled—"But lies? No, no..." He indicated his features. "What you see is what you get. These people know that I'm different. Pretty as you may be, Chance, you have a forked, silver tongue behind your pearly whites." He slipped a finger under her chin.

Chance raised her hand to smack his hand away. He grabbed hold of her wrist.

"And I'm not too happy to hear about how you can't stand to be called here because—"

"—Let me go—" said Chance, feeling her voice return.

"—you're too much in a rush to get your power back—"

"—I told you to let me go—"

"—_Because,_" he pushed on, louder than her voice, "you feel that you should somehow be more superior than me. Well, I'll tell you this, _Lieutenant—"_

"—I'm in charge here!" Chance argued over his voice, but he raised his own louder,

"—_Your precious boyfriend is not here, and _I_ hold the power in this—"_

"This city is not yours, not going to be for long—!"

"SIT DOWN!"Joker roared impatiently.

Ace flinched as Joker took Chance's arm and threw her to the ground, making her slide against the hardwood floor and ended up crashing into the barnwood coffee table in the middle of the room. Ace stared, in both awe and fear, as Joker straightened his tie on his suit and bent down beside a bruised Chance. Chance, angered, pushed him away. He chuckled, rising to his feet.

"You," sighed Joker, "must be beaten a lot, considering how combative you are."

"You're a fucking psycho," growled Chance, lifting up her body by the support of an empty couch. "You're like the rest of them out there..."

"Am I?" laughed the Joker. He approached her again. Chance winced at him as he appeared in her visage, smiling at her.

"Out of my _face._" Chance hissed at him.

"You can't kill me, though I know you really, _really"—_he emphasized it when she met his eyes— "want to, because your orders are to let me run my gig, which I can't do, if you keep disrupting my concentration like this."

"Concentration?" said Chance, rising to her feet. "I don't think it really matters how much thought you put into ransacking a pawn shop, Joker!"

"It's the difference between a crook like you and—well, me." Joker said simply.

Chance's eyes dilated.

"A _crook like me?"_

Ace stepped forward.

"Chance, dial it down."

Chance rounded on her.

"Stay out of _this!"_

"Chance—"

"_I said 'stay out of this'!"_ Chance roared in a high-pitched tone.

Ace glanced at Joker, who nodded for her to return to her seat. Ace formided the understanding notion, but still looked at her old friend with some hesitation.

"I will not," said Chance dangerously, "be talked down to by a man who crawled out of a sewer vat—or was beaten by his drunk daddy—or left by a grumpy, old bitch—or _whatever_ happened to you to make you become such a pasty-faced murderer!"

Joker looked at her with raised eyebrows.

He howled in amusement, "_There's the Chance I know!"_

Chance's anger was diffused by his reaction.

"What?"

"I was wondering if you still had a nasty temper, there it is." Joker smiled. He approached the extinguished leader and handed her the firearm with a large smile. "What did I tell you before?"

"What?" she repeated, lost.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He turned her to the television screen where a commercial advertised Harvey Dent's campaign,

"All it took," he said as if to finish a grand finale, "was a little push."


	71. Positive Targets

The City in Pieces

Chapter Seventy-One: Positive Targets

Chance paced the hallway, awaiting for Ace and Joker to make out the details of their future hit on the fundraiser party at Bruce Wayne's penthouse. Since the fire destroyed the better part of his manor when Ra's al Ghul and his League had attempted to bring down Gotham, the foundation was in repair, so the playboy billionaire took refuge in the high rise building. Chance sighed. Morally disturbed by Joker's success in prodding her nerves, Chance was starting to miss Bane's cool nature and overall predictable mannerisms. Joker was a genius, but he seemed to be all over the place. His plans were on a scatter plot while Bane seemed to be on a line graph.

Chance held a finger to her ear, making to look like she was itching it, but passed her hand along the activation switch to turn on her secret head set. The static came on, but in a minute, Bane's voice was clear as day in her head,

"What is it?" he said in a sigh.

"Joker's touching base of attacking that bash on Wayne's penthouse."

"Keep yourself covered," he instructed, "and lose the military uniforms for now."

Chance glanced at her attire. She assumed that he already knew about the military paraphenalia. Chance bit the inside of her cheek. Bane said nothing on the other line, but something prodded the conversation forward. He broke the quiet.

"You're hesitating to tell me something."

"It's more like three things, Sir," said Chance, crossing her arms. She looked down the hallways.

"Problems in the plan?"

"Not in the grand design," retorted Chance honestly, "just a few things that weren't counted on."

"Such as?"

"I've been under the impression that Joker's going to target a few people."

"It's a city racked with crime and punishment, Lieutenant," reminded Bane casually—Chance could hear nothing else in the background, silence—"I expect that such a rambunctious criminal like Joker would be targeting the entire city."

"That's not what I meant, Sir," clarified Chance gently.

"Then speak."

"I'm under the impression that he's targeting Judge Surillo, Harvey Dent, and the Commissioner."

He paused. Certainly, he would have something to say about it. Bane, on the other line, made a noise of one that was trying to figure out how to tread carefully on the subject.

"A missing judge and commissioner are no skin off my back," said Bane honestly. "A judge like Surrillo is a component for justice, and she does her job well, but in the end, it will be those on the opposite side of the force that suffer a great deal."

"They're trying to stop the crimes, Bane," said Chance, slightly puzzled. "I thought we should spare them."

"The operation is to convince those criminals that their city is in their hands. Once crime has swept through Gotham, it will be easy to watch the world burn, and then we will relieve it. It's our destiny. Make it so."

"Should I try to intervene, Sir?" asked Chance in understanding.

"No. Stay on the sidelines," said Bane, "but do not walk away from the game."

"Trust me, Sir," informed Chance with a slight smile, "I don't intend to go any time soon."

Chance clocked off the conversation then re-entered the room to see Joker and Ace. They looked at her curiously, but they didn't ponder long.

"All right," said Chance with a smile. "Update me."


	72. Role in the Play

The City in Pieces

Chapter Seventy-Two: Role in the Play

Joker intended to target Commissioner Loeb and Judge Surrillo as he was crashing the fundraiser bash. It left Harvey Dent if those two were picked off the plate, and the statistics read that Dent was less likely to run from anybody. If Chance knew him well, which she did, he would risk life in order to keep the town safe, and if that meant self-sacrifice, that was probably a good deal.

Ace was the reporter who informed Chance of the whole situation. From behind Chance, Joker strode up to her and pushed an envelope and a bottle of liquor into her hands. The seal of the cork bottle wasn't broken; it was brand new, and it had a cute, paper bow on the side, labeled _'For you'_. Chance observed it curiously, but was certain that it wasn't actually mean specifically to her. Chance glanced at the orange envelope in her other hand. She looked up to see Joker and Ace smiling at her.

"What am I to do with these?" she said cautiously.

Joker wrapped a hand around her shoulders, exerting a flinch from Chance while doing so, and strode her to the large window; the view overlooked the harbors of Gotham Port and the emptying streets of the city's third shift and incoming day shift.

"Your boss is quite adamant, I should think, that you play a specific role in our plays." Joker said. He surveyed her reaction to the comment, but she didn't show any emotion. He indicated the bottle and envelope. "You're going to deliver these things to the main people who make this city worth living for." He took the bottle from her hand and jiggled it playfully, "This tasty dish goes to the Commissioner."

"I'm assuming that it's laced with poison," said Chance in a bored voice.

"_Very good,_" he drawled, unimpressed.

She gave him an undesirable look, annoyed and antagonized.

"This goes to the judge," he said, pointing to the envelope with his head. "You guide her safety, which is her vehicle, tell her that she's going to be transported to a witness protection program, say that you have no idea where she is going, and the envelope will tell her where."

"You're saying that I'm to deliver these."

"Well, yes, more or less." Joker said smugly. "But I know your situation, and you can't show your face. But since you're so intelligent and quipped with a cabinet full of witticism, perhaps you'll figure it out."

Joker paused.

"No, wait, I take that back. You really have been a good jelly bean since I tossed you away like a plastic bag, so I'm going to give you something."

Ace handed Joker a gift bag, who passed it to a wary Chance. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Open it." Joker said, setting the bag at her feet.

"You know that I won't," said Chance certainly. She set Surrillo and Commissioner Loeb's gifts on the window sill.

"Told ya," sided Ace out of the corner of her mouth.

"Look," said Joker in a mocked disappointed voice, "I went through all this trouble, and you won't open my little gift? You'll like it. I know it."

"You lie." Chance said strongly.

Joker sighed. To her little surprise, Chance watched him pull out tissue paper, ending up at the bottom of the barrel, so to speak, and brought up a concealed box, wrapped in a bow. Chance stared at it.

"You are _paranoid,_" said Joker, amused. "You're are impossible. Here, I'll take the bow off, but you have to do some of the work."

"I know how you work," said Chance. "I'm not one of your priceless victims."

"If you were one of my victims, I'm sure you'd be more valuable than a nothing." Joker assured her. He took off the bow and opened the box itself.

Chance looked at it. It was a nice gesture, iced on top was her title, Lieutenant, etched with flowers. Ace grinned at her. Joker shoved the box into Chance's arms. When Chance continued to stare at it in disbelief, a ticking noise started to sound from the cake. Chance squealed and threw it to the floor. As the pound of baked goods broke apart on the dirty top, the center fudge exploded angrily in the room, sending pieces of chocolate and vanilla cake through the room, ending up on the three criminals and the rest of the furniture.

Chance, unamused, stood in her military fatigues, a chocolate and vanilla statue, staring at fellow cupcake Joker and Ace who were roaring with laughter on the floor.

_I can't believe that I have to put up with this shit._

It was evening when Joker requested Ace to call on Maroni's men to gather the officers that were in their league to come to the warehouse. As Chance had known for a while, The GCPD was racked with traitors, and no doubt, her own league had some traitors in there as well. Chance recognized two of them immediately. Wuertz, a portly, white-haired, balding man; and Ramirez, the Hispanic, law-abiding beauty with black hair and gentle eyes. Chance disregarded them, turning to Ace, who was letting the officers file inside the warehouse. Ace gave Chance a look.

"What's on your mind, Einstein?" asked Ace, hands on hips.

"Since when did Ramirez take Maroni's buy?" asked Chance curiously. "Figured she was a straight arrow."

"Her mother's in the hospital," said Ace. "Her bills are quite extensive and she needed some money her way to pay them off. Wuertz is just another skirmish away from being a criminal himself." Ace said with little interest.

"And the rest of them?"

"They want pulls in the illegal system, in and out. 'I scratch your back, you scratch mine', sort of thing. It's a pity all of them do, though. Half of them made great cops." Ace added, indicating the latter with a free hand. "I should know. Half of them have arrested me before, but I get away."

She changed the subject, handing Chance the envelope and the bottle of alcohol.

"Remember: the bottle goes to the Commissioner; the envelope, to Surrillo. Don't worry about trying to get into the buildings. There are a few men in the crowd who are actually big fans of yours. I'll get one of them to sneak in the bottle, and two men can hand this to the judge," she held up the envelope. "Just keep a good watch. They tend to have low attention spans.

"No doubt that Gordon's already figured out that the judge and commissioner are targets, so both figures will be flanked by armed cops, but it's not a curiosity to them. These guys here are good actors and actresses, and they'll do their parts. Once Surrillo gets into her car, drive away. I've rigged her vehicle with explosives below the hood and under the floor mat of her seat."

"Of course, you did," Chance retorted cynically.

"I'm only doing my half of the plot, girl," said Ace coolly. "You'll be working with Ramirez," she added. "She's a sly old gal in Maroni's throng, but she's cooperative. Joker and I will be taking Wuertz. He's well-trusted among Harvey Dent, so it won't be shocking once we arrive in the penthouse with some guards.

"When we get inside the Penthouse, we'll be searching for Dent. You'll come up there with us."

"I can't show my face."

"You won't be," said Ace with understanding. Ace withdrew a cowl and hood, matching a black and red suit, complete with pockets and such. Chance gave her a gentle smile.

"Wear this," continued Ace. "Then you can come up with us."

"What are you going to do when you find Dent?" asked Chance curiously.

"We're considering throwing him into the river," passed Ace callously.

"I don't like that idea." Chance said unpleasantly.

"Get over it," said Ace coolly.

"_Ace._"

"Joker wants to make an example of him."

"How?"

"Just wait and see."


	73. Get This Party Started

The City in Pieces

Chapter Seventy-Three: Get This Party Started

Chance watched Ace don a particularly fashionable gown. It was as if she and Joker were beginning to think that they were actually invited to this big ensemble. It wouldn't be surprising for them to actually believe something as improbable as that. Chance turned away from the beauty in the little black dress to turn to Ramirez, who was looking less than comfortable in Chance's presence. Her dark, black hair was pulled back, casting over one of her petite shoulders. Her eyes glanced from the dressing Ace to the reverent Chance, who stood in front of her, donned in the red and black _Dark Brotherhood _suit, though her cowl was cast over her arm lazily.

Ramirez was not as confident in the scheme of things, like Wuertz. Chance could tell by the way she held herself in the room full of cops. Chance guessed that she was feeling either very stupid or really downcast that she was betraying her boss for a few more pennies in the jar. Chance side-stepped to Ramirez's right side, standing with her arms folded across her chest.

"All right, Ramirez?" she said quietly, only so that her direct contact could her speak.

Ramirez shook her head.

"It's not surprising," said Chance, watching Joker come to Ace's backside to zip up her dress. "I wouldn't feel so hot either if I was going to hand over my Commissioner to one of these goons"—she indicated the two clowns getting dolled up. "But," she sighed, nudging the female officer in the ribs with an elbow, "I have to admit that you've got some gumption to do all of this."

"I have to do what I have to do," said Ramirez uncomfortably.

"It's what any of us _can_ do."

"Don't try to butter me up. I know the wrongs that you have committed," said Ramirez threateningly, staring at her. Chance's eyebrows raised unexpectedly.

She wasn't stirred by the officer's dangerous threat, merely impressed that something like that came out of her. Chance smiled serenely at her, hands on hips.

"Is that so, officer?"

"The city might have forgotten what you've done five years ago, but I haven't. You are guilty, more than anyone I've known. More than me." Ramirez said strongly. "You'll be writhing in Black Gate Prison before it even hits you."

"You really are delusional," said Chance sweetly. She raised a hand to Ramirez's chin and tapped it lightly. Ramirez flinched. Chance smirked. "But you know what, officer? I'm not frightened of you, because half of this city doesn't even belong to your little justice gang. It's too easy to buy off people these days, and you can bet your badge that many of them are already prepared to leave, should something so dangerous should ever..._"_ she paused, then slipped the word delicately through a strong hint, "_happens."_

Ramirez's eyes widened at the deliciously malevolent word. Chance withdrew her gaze from the cop and turned to Ace, who now looked as if she were going to the prom. The only thing different from the prom was that Ace's face was decorated in costume make-up, a slip and slide from a mime's do. Ace's pasty face made her eyes even brighter than ever, a blue that was threatening to pop out and join the ocean's tide.

Joker approached Chance, admiring her new suit.

"Quite a change from your military gear," he commented, indicating her body with his hand. "Okay, you remember the plan like Ace told you?"

"I got it," said Chance, slightly irritated.

"All right." Joker sighed. He patted his suit to make sure all guns, grenades, and flower in his breast pocket were in place. Turning to Ace, he offered her his hand, which she took with a happy squeal. He turned to Chance one more time. "Let's get this party started."

As they walked away to get into vans, Chance heard Ace singing,

"_Get this party started on a Saturday night,_

_Everybody's waiting for me to arrive_

_Sendin' out the message to all of my friends_

_We'll be looking flashy in my Mercedes Benz_

_I got lot of style, check my gold diamond rings_

_I can go for miles if you know what I mean..."_

Chance turned to the rest of the officers that were at her supply. A few of them looked at her, as if trying to place her face. She'd let them figure it out on their own. Chance wrapped the cowl around her face, only her own piercing, blue eyes could show her expression. She pulled up the hood.

"Let's go," her voice erupted loudly to the crowd. She turned to Ramirez and said gently,

"If you keep these boys in line, I'll forget your little threats, hm?"

Ramirez growled something, but Chance paid no mind over it.

Walking to the back of the warehouse, three cop cars were parked in a straight line.

"Which one is yours?" asked Chance curiously.

Ramirez brought her to the first one. She took out the keys from her belt and pushed into the lock on the driver's side. Chance held onto the door, keeping it closed. When Ramirez saw her do this, she questioned her actions.

"I'm driving." Chance said simply. Ramirez released the keys and the door then wordlessly strode to the passenger side. "Not getting caught because a corrupted pig is trying to earn some retribution..." Chance muttered, entering the police car. She hit the switch on the driver's door that unlocked all four entrances. Three cops got into the back; Ramirez took the front seat unhappily.

"Cheer up, Darling," said Chance, patting the unwilling officer's shoulder, "you'll eventually like doing shit like this."

Chance slammed the door shut. She watched the other officers in the two cars start their engines. Chance slipped the key into the ignition slot. It started smoothly.

"You sure you know how to drive this?" asked a cop behind Chance's seat.

"You think this is the first time that I've driven a cop's car? Please," she drawled.

Arriving at the Police Department in a band of police cars was easier than trying to break in with little else. Chance stayed hidden in the shadows, parking the car in the alley. Ramirez was about to get out when Chance seized her arm. Ramirez, startled, turned to her immediately.

"Don't get cute," said Chance coldly, indicating the officers inside the building.

Ramirez nodded obediently. Chance released her. She waited in the driver's seat. Chance watched the time. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Eighteen minutes on the clock. When twenty passed, Chance was beginning to think that Ramirez had finked, but as the twenty-first minute hand came clicking by the twelve o'clock mile marker, she and the three other men were coming back to the car. Chance's head was supported in her hand, leaning her arm against the window. Ramirez and the three cops filed into the car.

"What took so long?" asked Chance suspiciously. "Can't imagine that handing a guy a bottle of whiskey would take twenty minutes."

"Just a few questions," said Ramirez, beside herself.

Chance didn't press the matter. Had Ramirez warned the Commissioner about any sign of impending death, Ramirez would have given up some kind of sign of lying, but she was calm in her own way, and still held the air of self-loathing. Chance glanced into the rear view mirror to see the three other cops as well, saddened. With enough date to go on, Chance put the car in the drive and drove to Surrillo's house.

"That's the one," said Ramirez, pointing out the windshield. Chance parallel parked in front of a large townhouse. "Gotham Heights, this is it."

Chance looked at the large town house with distaste. Gotham Heights was the cornerstone of the rich to fame. The end of the road was this side of town, edging on the precipice of Old Town, which was the bottom of the barrel of poverty. Chance turned off the car and looked at Ramirez.

"Of all the places to have in this god-forsaken city," she said in a friendly manner, "why would someone take this?"

Judge Surrillo's home was well built with stone and brick. The windows reflected the moon, bouncing the light off the glass. The curtains were drawn. Chance examined the house itself. Chance handed the folded envelope to one of the cops behind her.

"Do this," she said, "and get back in here."

Two officers closest to the doors left the car and approached the door. Chance watched them ascend the few steps on the porch. They knocked on the door and waited.

The car remained silent. Chance tapped her fingers on the dashboard patiently.

"If you," said Ramirez from the quiet, making Chance turn her head, "are so interested in helping the Joker, why are you afraid of him?"

Chance gave her a look.

"I'm not," she said assuredly.

"Really? You didn't look so brave when he was confronting you." Ramirez said, gazing out of her side of the window.

"Want to get into this now, do ya?" said Chance sternly.

"It's just a conversation starter," said Ramirez moodily.

"Hey, look at me."

Ramirez scoffed.

Chance raised her hand and smacked Ramirez swiftly on the cheek. Ramirez gasped, but only looked incensed. Chance smiled at her.

"He's merely a dog on leash," muttered Chance.

She looked at Judge Surrillo's house. A dark-skinned justice of the peace opened the door to see the two officers standing on her porch. They spoke to her. Chance heard her say,

"Gordon wants me to go right now?"

They guided her to her car. Chance switched the key from its dormant state to drive. The judge crossed the sidewalk and entered her car. The cop handed her the envelope.

"Close the door," said the cop, "open the envelope, and it will tell you where you're going."

The two cops went back to Chance and entered. Chance immediately drove away. From her rearview mirror, she watched the Judge's car explode into a raging fireball. Ramirez flinched at the explosion. Chance merely continued to drive with ease.

"Off we go," said Chance, turning the car around to go to Wayne's penthouse.


	74. In the Penthouse

The City in Pieces

Chapter Seventy-Four: In the Penthouse

Ramirez took the wheel while Chance hobbled over to the passenger's seat. Chance armed herself to the chest, quickly latched knives and guns into her suit pockets. Ramirez glanced at her with slight fascination at her speed. When Ramirez parked in front of a huge, Bromdinagian palace, Chance assumed that it was Bruce's place, top floor. Chance barreled out of the car, flying through the parking lot; she snuck pass guards to walk around the large building, ending up at the back entrance where Joker, Ace, and Wuertz were about to enter. Ace was speaking rapidly to the detective, while Joker organized their entry.

"Don't you go against our little deal, Detective," said Ace, setting her finger under the plump officer's chin. "You turn over for them, we turn over you."

When Chance arrived by her side, it startled Ace. She grasped her heart in her hand, composing herself from the sudden scare.

"Gotcha'," said Chance in good nature, shoving Ace in the shoulder.

"You're done already?" asked Ace.

"Yeah. As we speak, Loeb's suffocating from the whiskey, and Surrillo's a backyard barbeque."

"Hot damn!" Ace squealed, patting Chance hard on the back. She turned to Joker. "See, I told you that we could trust her."

"We're not finished, not yet." Joker told Ace seriously. He tossed a shotgun her way; she caught it in both hands. Joker met Chance's eyes. "Don't you look dashing," he retorted with a smirk. "Here," he tossed a knife her way. "Little token of appreciation."

"I don't need gifts from you to satisfy any part of me," said Chance, tossing back the knife. "I can handle my own."

"Fine," shrugged Joker. He pocketed the blade and turned to Ace. "Let's get a move on. I'm getting hungry."

Ace bent down beside the back doors. She withdrew a small knife from the concealed pocket of her bosom, flicked it open, and shoved the point of the blade into the lock. She jammed it. Chance watched her take the shot gun and slam the barrel against the door. The jammed lock busted open, and the padlock fell to the ground in pieces. Chance smiled out of pride, happy to know that Ace was still quite the locksmith. Ace kicked the useless device with a pointed heel and opened the door.

"We're VIP tonight," said Ace with a wide grin.

Chance entered through the back entrance. Several men clamored behind them in clown masks. Ace and Joker went ahead of Chance. Ace grabbed Wuertz behind her and pushed him in front of the latter. He participated unwillingly now, afraid of the consequences to come. Chance, third in the line, strode quickly behind Ace. Her dress billowed with every elegant step.

"The elevators," said Joker, shoving the shotgun into Wuetz's back.

The cop's presence made the people scatter. Before any of them could actually make out who was who, Joker, Ace, and Chance barricaded themselves into the elevator, followed by the group of clowns. Wuertz stood directly in front of the elevator door. Ace withdrew his badge from his pocket and shoved it into his hand.

"Which floor?" he asked when the doors closed.

"Which one do you think?" retorted Ace, slightly annoyed.

Wuertz pushed the highest number on the number pad. The familiar lifting sensation hit Chance's stomach. She waited patiently like the rest of them. The doors opened in two minutes. Joker raised his shotgun and bashed Wuertz over the head; he fell to the floor in front of them.

Chance was met by a display of fop, dressed in black, sophisticated gowns; jewelry sparkled on the women's necks, arms, and ears; men were donned in wealthy tuxedos—all of them drank from tightly carved, glass goblets: the eptiome of riches and fame of Gotham. The floors could reflect the people in them. The windows were large and clear. The moon shined through with the guise of beauty. There was an array of tables, supplying a sorbet of food and appetizers. Wine bottles gathered on a separate table. Joker entered swiftly, followed by Ace, followed by Chance, and the goons behind her scattered the room, taking charge.

Joker raised his shotgun and pulled the trigger. It was followed by terrified screams throughout the entire room. Chance peered through the throng, searching for only one man, or maybe two. Bruce Wayne, where was he if this was his party? And Dent? Where was Harvey?

Ace squealed delightfully from beside him.

"We are," said Joker's voice, loudly over the noise, "tonight's entertainment!"

He strode through the room like he owned the damn place, took a glass of wine from the table of liquor, tossed it back, then took a few shrimp cocktails from the buffet table. He inclined Ace to help herself, along with the goons. Chance merely stood in the same place, watching the scene unfold. Ace, armed to the T, approached the table with a wide smirk on her face. The few people beside her scittered away from her, frightened. Chance watched Joker slip in and out of the crowd,

"I have only one question. Where is Harvey Dent?"

Silence.

"I'll even settle for his loved ones."

"Begs the question," said Chance from the middle of the living room, "where is his little girlfriend?"

Joker turned from the crowd and approached Chance.

"What are you talking about?"

"His _squeeze,_" said Chance in Joker's accent, miming the verb. She indicated to the crowd of people. She strode away from Joker to approach the masses. Ace watched her with interest.

"Surely!" said Chance to the throng, indicating each person in turn with a look, "one of these egotistical fops has to be Dent's lover!"

"Are you making a mockery of them, or are you serious?" asked Ace, approaching Chance with two goblets in her hands. "Rachel Dawes wouldn't come to one of these things."

"For her lover, she would," said Chance. "Word on the street is that he proposed to her."

Ace gave her a relishing grin,

"Oh, gossip. Wine?" she offered Chance one of the cups.

"No."

Ace and Chance turned to Joker.

"Where is he? Do you know who Harvey Dent is? Do you know who he is? No..."

Joker examined the men in the crowd. Then from out of the crowd, a distinguished gentleman stepped out of the crowd and into Joker's path. Joker halted.

"We're intimidated by thugs!"

Joker smiled affectionately. He approached him with a drawn knife. The man stared at him.

"You know," said Joker, "you remind me of my father." Joker grabbed the man, "I _hated_ my father."

From the quieting crowd, a voice came strong and bold,

"Stop!"

Chance and Ace both turned to see Rachel Dawes standing in the middle of the room, away from the throng. Her voice was hard to mistake for anyone else's. The strength she held in her voice was not common with the weak and feeble. Even Ace had to give the attorney some credit; she was very brave to stand up to a man like Joker. Chance watched Joker release the gentleman. He approached Rachel with some distance, then smiled at her. Chance glanced at Ace, who stiffened with undeniable jealousy.

"Well, well, well," said Joker in obvious interest, impressed. He circled Rachel, who flinched at him when he came close. "Hello _beautiful. You_ must be Harvey's _squeeze. _And you _are_ beautiful."

Joker held the knife out to her. Rachel straightened, tense. He wiped his knife across her cheek, bearing her attention.

"Why are you so nervous?" he asked her, observing her frightened expressions.

Chance glanced at Ace, who was frowning.

"Is it because of the scars?" asked Joker, pointing to his face. "Wanna know I got them?"

"Oh, my god..." Chance scoffed.

Joker ignored Chance. He grabbed Rachel's face, setting the knife gently against her left cheek. Her eyes avoided his face.

"I had a wife," began Joker's tale, "like you. Who tells me I worry too much. Who says I need to smile more. Who gambles. And gets in deep with these loan sharks. One day they carve her face. And we've got no money for surgeries. She can't take it." Joker said, pressing his knife against her cheek. Chance listened to the tale with some empathy. He, no doubt, was probably lying his ass off, but somehow, he could make a pretty convincing story. Ace tossed down the glass of wine. Chance watched Joker and Rachel.

"I just want to see her smile again. I just want her to know that I don't care about the scars. So I put a razor in my mouth, and do this"—he mimed cutting his mouth—"to myself. And you know what?" He started to laugh. "She can't stand the _sight of me._" Or crying...? "She leaves. Now I see the funny side. Now I'm always smiling!"

Joker raised the knife to her cheek. Rachel slugged him one. Ace reacted on impulse, shooting forward, but Chance grabbed her from behind by her arms, restraining her. Joker laughed aloud.

"Oh!" he chuckled. "You got a little fight in you. I like that."

Then a growl from the crowd—

"_Then you're gonna love me!"_

Batman came from the crowd in a blur of black ears and cape. Batman punched him in the face, disarmed Joker, and sent the clown to the floor. Like ravenous hyenas, Joker's men jumped Batman; Ace, in her heels and black dress, came swinging toward the vigiliante. Dog pile.

Chance watched Batman take the thugs out, two at a time, flinging their bodies awry. Ace punched Batman hard across the unconcealed portion of his face, drawing blood from his lips. Joker clicked a blade from his shoe—Ace withdrew the knife from her bosom, and together their knives shot into Batman's armored ribcage. Batman took Joker by his shoulders and flung him across the floor. He grabbed Ace by her neck and tossed her the same direction.

Batman came at Chance offensively, but she was ready for him. Chance ducked immediately and swung a flexible trip trick toward his running feet, sending him face down.

After fighting Bane for so long, Batman's tricks were not uncommon to Chance. Ra's al Ghul, after all, had been the mentor of both men, and Bane had taught her some things. As Ace drew herself to balance, she watched in awe as Batman and Chance threw down. Chance's skills had only been knocked down when she went against an old friend—psychologically, Chance couldn't have beaten Ace. But Joker's henchgirl figured out just how powerful Chance was when she clearly could hold her own with the caped crusader.

He threw a fist at her ribcage; Chance kneed him in his stabbed armor. He groaned. Before she could leave, he grabbed her shoe and pulled. Chance tripped, falling to the floor on contact. Chance raised her knee and catapulted her leg his way, kicking him in the face. He released her in anguish. Chance rose to her feet. Ace came at Batman furiously, grabbing hold of his neck. He hit her hard in the gut. Ace screamed. Chance raced back to Batman. He was clobbered by she and Ace's punches. Batman shoved Chance to the floor. Then he grabbed Ace by the waist, hoping to arrest her.

Batman then suddenly released Ace, who fell to the floor, unbalanced. Chance followed Batman's gaze to figure out what the hell made him cease. Joker was standing beside a window, holding his knife to Rachel's neck, his other hand wrapped around her shoulder. Rachel's hands grabbed Joker's arm helplessly. She stared at Batman in undeniable fear.

Ace, on the floor, staggered to her feet, sporting a bruised torso and a bruised eye. Her make up was smeared. She was smirking though.

"Drop the knife," said Batman coldly.

"Sure," said Joker, and he indicated the Bat with his knife, "you just take off that mask and show us all who you really are."

Chance saw Rachel's head shake at Batman.

"No?" said Joker, as if to say 'going twice'.

He raised his shotgun to the glass window, blasted it, and the glass shards teetered out the window, fifty stories down. Joker took Rachel's arm and dangled her out the window.

"Let her go," said Batman.

"Very _poor_ choice of words," said Joker. Laughing, his hand left Rachel's arm.

_Whoosh,_ she was gone. Her screams echoed out the window. Chance watched Batman pitch himself out the window. Chance raced to the edge of the building, staring down at them as Batman fell after her. Chance saw them hit home on a car parked outside. They moved slightly. Alive.

"Un-fucking-believable," muttered Chance.

Joker, Ace, and Chance piled into a car. The driver is one of Joker's men. Joker touched the blood running down his face, combined with white make-up. He was exhilarated, breathing hard. Chance pulled off her hood and cowl, tossing it to the floor. She was sweating a great deal. Ace wiped her face free of make-up and blood. The remnants of the white power was still caked on her pretty face.

"That went well," she cooed, glancing between the two tired people. "Don't you think?"

"He _wasn't_ supposed to be there!" Chance said, rounding on Joker. "Didn't you have this thing planned out?"

"You honestly thought Batman wasn't going to come?" said Joker, staring at her. "Maybe you've been gone too long." He hit the driver's seat. "Get going. This place'll be swarming with cops."

When the car was in motion, Ace turned to Chance.

"You really were fascinating back there," she said to Chance sincerely.

"Doesn't matter," said Chance dismissively. "Dent wasn't there. I figured he'd have been."

"He _was_ there," said Joker. "Hiding."

"What of Dent?" said the driver. "What are we going to do about him?"

"I'm a man of my word." Joker muttered.

"And how exactly how are you going to keep that when you don't even know where he is?" said Chance, feeling aggravated.

"The mob wants their money," said Joker, taking out his cell phone. "I'll give it to them."

Chance stared at him.

"Uh, _hello,_ we can't do that! Lau's—"

Joker stopped her with his hand. He looked at her.

"How about we talk when you're not so excited, hm? Giving me a headache with your screaming...Odds are I have a concussion..."

Chance bottled her anger.

"Certifiable, I swear..." Chance muttered angrily, crossing her arms.


	75. Role Play

The City in Pieces

Chapter Seventy-Five: Roleplay

Lau was still the most important key on Gotham's key chain to having all of the mob being arrested and sent to Black Gate Prison, but the prosecution was going nowhere since Judge Surrillo was sent to the Void and Commissioner Loeb was in intensive care. Lau was being held in the Major Crimes Unit under pretense that he would be, and was, the only link to the mob's money. And although the entire mob and Joker were after Harvey Dent, Chance simply would not believe that he would ever walk away from something like this. It was his nature to be Gotham's White Knight, and he would put himself first before his entire city could be destroyed. Dent was somewhere in Gotham, and Chance wouldn't let it go.

Lau was being held in the MCU. According to an insider's report, he was due in court before a judge, or else he was going to be sent to County. It was less likely that he would survive more than a day there, due to the fact that his calculations had sent most of his workers there in the past. It would be like throwing Batman into Arkham.

But Bruce Wayne probably already figured out that Joker was being paid by the mob to rattle the cage. Chance understood it when she was fighting him. Batman, though—Bruce—had been distracted by Rachel to stop Joker. He had made sure that Rachel was all right, and Joker, Ace, and Chance had gotten away, more or less unscathed.

Targeting Batman wouldn't get the mob's money back, but Batman had pinched too many nerves. He squeezed the mob tighter and tighter, ransacking closed deals, raising the stakes higher and higher. And the mob turned to a man that they didn't understand. Joker.

Bruce was no idiot, though. He made it off to the paparazzi that he was billionaire bachelor, but they didn't know what secrets he retained in his house. Chance had never been in the bat cave, but she could imagine that he had some heavy equipment from below. What, with the Applied Sciences under Batman's proverbial wing, his toys were limitless.

Bruce Wayne had always dealt with the likes of Joker in the past, but this was not the same man that he had fought many years ago. Joker was more deadly this time around. A different man. He was far more risky. His joking mannerisms were not there sometimes. Sometimes he was just a lunatic in a purple suit. Bruce was under the impression that this Joker wanted money. But in reality, Joker wanted to watch the city burn under his hand.

Over the next week, Joker's men targeted two other officers. One named Partick Harvey, the other was Richard Dent. Gordon and Ramirez were sent to the house to inspect one Harvey Dent that was there, but it was through realization that it was simply a play on words on the street of 8th of Orchard.

The poison in the whiskey that Loeb had taken orally had disfigured his lungs and heart. He passed away in the critical unit under 24 hours of observation. In a closed casket, the city was going to hold his funeral in Parkside Avenue, a wide street that would be blocked off to traffic to make a funeral parade for the deceased Commissioner. The police were going to be in dress uniform, sporting firearms. The fourth target was to take out Mayor Garcia, who would be presiding over the funeral procession.

"There will be a fuckload of cops," said Chance, watching Joker pace the floor, drink in hand, "at the funeral parade. Now how do you intend to put a hit on the mayor, then, hm?"

Ace, clad in jeans and a tank top, sat on the arm of the recliner, watching Joker's to and fro walk from one side of the living room to the other. Her face was healing from the injuries that Batman had delivered her three days previously. After examining her for serious injury, Chance had anticipated that Ace was one of the lucky ones that could heal quickly. The bruising around her right eye was just vanishing; the only thing that lingered in the girl's body was just a few sore limbs. Ace sported a sprained wrist from Batman's pitching her across the floor, but that was as how terrible as her injuries went. Chance had a migraine as a result of way too many blows to the head. Batman was well-trained, she already knew, but the caped crusader might have gotten the hint that she had found a master in martial arts. Batman threw down harder than he had before, and he hadn't stopped fighting like that when he was challenged by Ace.

But now, Chance's migraines were beckoning her to easy irritation. She was irked by Joker's continuation of being calm while the challenge ahead would see more improbable than what was expected.

"It's not a simple plan, Chance," said Joker, sitting in the recliner against which Ace sat on the arm. Joker patted Ace's leg. "Since Ace is a bit knocked, we have to revise it."

"You don't make plans," said Chance, using her fingers to massage her temples. She walked by Joker who merely watched her with a bored expressions. "The last I looked, you improvised. Could explain why Batman was there..."

"He's going to be everywhere," said Joker with a little chuckle. "It's his city to protect. Of course, he wants to be where the crime is. It's his call in life." He pointed a hard gaze in Chance's direction, "And it looks like he can hold you off—Bane can't be too much of a challenge."

Chance shot him a dirty look.

Joker held up his hands defensively.

"I kid," he said playfully, "I watched him fight before. Just trying to get another rise out of you."

Chance scoffed irritably. She went to the cupboard and started ransacking the kichen area of the warehouse. Ace watched her go through the drawers furiously, slamming them closed.

"You find anything in there, Chance," called Ace from the recliner's arm. "We don't keep any pain killers on hand."

Chance glanced at her from her rummaging and tossed the kitchen towel into an empty, dry sink with frustration. Her brain was screaming. Ace slid off the chair, being watched by Joker's eyes, and approached her old friend with some curiosity.

"We keep it on us," said Ace, holding out a bottle of something written in Chinese.

"Why is it written in Mandarin?" inquired Chance, holding her head, but taking the bottle gratefully.

"Courtesy of Lau," said Ace in explanation. "When he found out that you were back, he handed some of these off to me and asked me to bring them to you, but you were in Italy," she said, when Chance stared at her in question. "He informed me that since you are in Daggett's line of work, odds were that you needed some kind of pain relief."

Chance looked at the bottle with a raised eyebrow,

"How sweet of him," she said derisively.

Chance opened the bottle and popped in a few pills, then tossed the bottle to Ace. She caught it in one hand but pitched it toward Chance, who caught it in turn.

"Keep them. They're yours. I don't need pain relief."

"No, you're just self-healing, aren't you?" said Chance sarcastically, looking at Ace. Ace ignored the statement.

"Stop it, Chance," said Ace, "Just say thank you."

"I thought I just did."

Ace shrugged her shoulders. She turned to Joker, who was watching them from where he was seated.

"What's do the statistics look like, Boss?"

Chance answered before Joker could.

"They'll block off the traffic," said Chance, stepping toward a nearby couch to lie on it. Joker's eyes fell to her. Ace bit the inside of her cheek. "Officers," said Chance, "will be doing the parade, exactly like they do in the movies. Odds are that since Joker and Ramirez could put a hit on the Commissioner and Harvey, they'll be anticipating a fifth attack. Snipers will be in each window of any apartment or working building."

Chance turned to Joker.

"If you're wanting to target Harvey," she said, "this will be that day. Dent and Dawes will be there," she added. "Courtesty of the Commissioner."

"Is Bane going to '_okay_'," mocked Joker with waving fingers, "with us targeting Dent?"

"What are you talking about?" said Chance irritably.

"You're checking in with him quite often. Perhaps we're crossing the line," said Joker with a smirk.

"I'm making sure that I'm not crossing the line. You don't have to answer to him," said Chance aggressively, sitting up. Ace gestured for Chance to lie back down.

"Get back on the arm," said Ace.

"I don't have to answer to anyone," Joker said as Chance silently indulged Ace's request. "I'm my own boss. Though we do need a little help on your part."

Chance gave him a look.

"Why do you need my help? Oh, wait, let me rephrase. What is it that you need for me to do?"

Joker grinned at her.

"I don't like that look," said Chance coldly. She turned to Ace, "That always means something bad."

Ace smiled, "It always means a good show for me."

"It would be, if I wasn't playing the title role."

"I need your guys to give my guys a call," said Joker.

"And we'll do lunch?" said Chance mockingly.

"Funny, but no," Joker retorted. "In order to get through the crowd, we're going to be doing a bit of roleplay."

Chance saw Ace make a face. Joker gave her a look; she merely gave him a smile then sat down on the arm of Joker's recliner. Chance pressed her fingers to her temples and sighed.

"What do you mean by roleplay, clown?" said Chance patiently.

"You've got ninjas in your pockets. Get your guys to get some police uniforms."

"Why would I make them do that?" sighed Chance.

"Because we're going to role play as officers."

"I'm sure that even you in a costume isn't going to convince Gordon that you're a cop." Chance said closing her eyes.

"It's make-up," said Joker. Chance opened her eyes to see him standing beside her. He indicated his face. "Not permanent. You've never seen me without it. But when I take it off, I'm a new man."

"You're the same psycho killer, Joker," said Chance apathetically. "But I got the point."

"Is the plan not touching base yet? All right, I'll break it down for you." Joker said, bending beside the couch to maintain eye level. "With all these cops, they're not going to anticipate their inside trust to turn. We can blend in with them. Then we turn on the Mayor, and kill him too. Or is that going over the line?"

"Line." Chance repeated. "What line? Bane's told me to let you 'do as you please'." She changed the subject. "Where did you want me to take the uniforms?"

"Well, surely that's obvious."

Chance stared at him. Ace smirked. She volunteered to fill in the gaps.

"Gordon's going to be on top of the game, Chance. He'll count heads. Six too many will raise the question. And here's a list," said Ace, handing Chance a piece of paper, "of officers whose clothes fit the size of four men, one of Joker, and one of me."

Chance looked at the list.

"You want the uniforms of the officers?"

"More or less. We can use and take away a few guys." Ace said, counting her fingers.

"These officers, by name?" said Chance. She gave Ace a look. "Any certain time that you want me to _abduct_ these men and tie them to a pole?"

"It's not complicated," said Ace, sitting on Chance's legs. "You find these men, you take them to the Evewood Apartment; it overlooks the parade later tomorrow morning; the apartment that they'll be in is being renevated. No furniture is in it, and it's not available to any tenants just yet. Here's the key," Ace handed Chance a small gold key on a chain.

"So I should just arrange the kidnapping myself?" Chance retorted dryly.

"I'm not walking you through the steps," said Joker. "I'm sure with all that training, you can come up with your master plan."

"It's not a master plan if the only plot is to assassinate the mayor," said Chance.

"Assassination or petty theft," said Joker, "it's a good plan." He chuckled.

"Where were you planning to get firearms for your costumes?" said Chance seriously.

"This is you again." Joker added. "I know that friends of yours have quite an armory." He smiled at her. "Though you've never told us where you do hold your own group meetings."

Ace touched Joker's wrist delicately.

"We can't know where Chance lives in her spare time."

Joker looked at Ace.

"I always want to know a little about my associates before I work with them."

"You've worked with me before," said Chance.

"We both know that both of us have changed." Joker poked Chance's shoulder. "Diff-rent."

"Let it go.." Chance said threateningly.

"I might have touched another nerve. This is fun," said Joker casually. "Fine, fine. Keep your secrets. But I do know that you have quite a collection of firearms in your possessions. You lend my guys those, and I'll let the concept of your strange abode fall under the bridge."

"I'll do that," Chance muttered. "Ace, how long does it take for those pills to kick in?"

"Oh, you have to take it for two weeks for them to work," said Ace with a smirk. "They work, just not immediately."

"You're terrible..."


	76. Poison

The City in Pieces

Chapter Seventy-Six: Poison

Mockery and condescension was Joker's way of bending Chance to his will. He mocked her in order to make her know that he was not at all terrified of her. Joker was very aware of the man that worked her over, but he wasn't going to be frightened of anyone who was across the Pacific Ocean on another continent. Joker talked to her, and that was all he would ever do, save for the jerk of the arm that he had delivered her earlier, and it made Chance irritated beyond belief.

Bane was an eloquent breed of a man; he spoke his mind and most of the time, he was very direct. Bane would come out straight and say what he wanted to say, be it kind or rude, though most of the time, it was spot-on fact. Joker could beat around the bush, stall for time and pity sake, and what was worse was that he could simply pinch a hole in her body and climb under her skin without touching the surface. Before Chance could even see it, he was making her want to punch him in the face. It's what bothered her the most.

Joker could talk forever if time allowed it. Chance didn't have that time, but Joker didn't care. And if he didn't care, Ace sure as hell didn't mind it either. Ace might have changed for the better since she witnessed Chance at her best with Batman, but she didn't raise her morales any higher than what she had before. To Ace, Chance would always be the person that deserted her. To Chance, Ace would be the woman whom she spared when Bane could have just killed her easily.

Battling a growing migraine, Chance considered taking up another drinking session. She was thinking that if it could dial down inhibition, and numb the senses, it could numb the pain as well. Chance wouldn't say no to a numbing agent that Bane would give her whenever she was in so much pain. Batman butchered her head when she fought him.

Chance had left the warehouse slowly on her two feet, feeling less than well to be traveling on her own in the dark on the night streets of Gotham. She had to get going; tomorrow morning was the day that Mayor Garcia was going to serve his last term, and Joker's men needed uniforms. Chance would fulfill that part of the deal as long Joker didn't press the point of her lair. Bane didn't want them to know that she was living under the sewers. Any time that Chance approached Ace, she always met her somewhere or at the warehouse.

_Gotta get going, girl,_ thought Chance wearily. _Gotta get give orders...Head fucking hurts like Hell. Damn that man. Damn that bat. _

"Shit," muttered Chance. She staggered through the streets, pressing her balled fists into her temples, rubbing the side of her battered brain with her knuckles. The throbbing seared from every point, but not as bad as the couple painful pulses from above her ears. Chance felt as if walking was hurting her ever more. She was only a few feet from the manhole. The growing pain intensified around her face. Chance closed her eyes.

_Repress it, Chance. You've done it before. Do it again. Push it back. Ignore it...Ignore it..._

"God..." Chance whispered. "Why haven't these fucking...?"

_Stop talking, girl. Stop it, you're making it worse. No noise. Please...Shut up._

Then she heard a ringing in her ears. Something terrible.

_Oh, my god, was it that?_ Chance thought. _Open your eyes, you fucking wuss. Look around you. I said "Open your fucking eyes!" _

Chance forced herself to look around her surroundings. Before her, there was only darkness. City street lights shined on the side walk. The buildings were quiet. Chance could still hear the ringing.

_This isn't a hangover, _Chance thought softly. _Maintain low tones in your head. Push away the ringing._

Then some voices were behind her.

"Lieutenant," said one of the voices.

Chance still heard them; they were distant. Her head pulsed with every word that she heard from them. She shook her head furiously,

"Shut up..." she whispered.

"Lieutenant, you all right?"

The two of them were rookies. Chance watched them approach her. In her state, she suddenly became irritated.

"Get away from me. Go..." Chance breathed in a soft voice.

"Lieutenant, you look a bit peaky," said one of them in a British accent. Chance waved him down.

"Shh. God..." Chance pressed her hands to her forehead. "I have a terrible migraine..."

The two rookies examined her quietly. Chance looked at him. One of them opened his mouth to speak to her, but she put up a hand in front of his face to keep him quiet. Chance shook her head. Wordlessly, she requested him to stay quiet.

"Concussion..." said Chance quietly. "I have a concussion. Bad...headache. And ringing. I shouldn't gone to recuperate with Ace and Joker. Bad mistake. She gave me something for pain. Two weeks to kick in...Two weeks..."

Inside Chance's stomach, her intestines begged for release, but the plea didn't pursue through the closest outlet. The two rookies gasped, scattered away from her quickly when Chance bent forward and Niagara Falls burned her esophagus as vomit puddled at her feet.

"Oh, my God! Chance!"

Chance's stomach roared again. Her hands clasped around her stomach. The rookie that took her shoulders called to his companion,

"Come on, Wick, do something!"

Wick, the rookie that stood in front of her, mouth agape, couldn't move as he watched Chance wretch in front of him.

"Oh, dear Lord, it looks like she's dying," said Wick. "String, I don't know what I can do!"

"We can't just watch her—"

"Poison!" Chance choked, and another wave of nausea barreled its way through her throat. More violent than the first two. Tears fell from her eyes, some of pain, some out of knowing.

Wick tried to set her on the ground, but Chance pushed him away. She panted, hoping to keep down her organs. She was sure that her intestines would follow. Chance held her torso weakly.

"Get—" She couldn't finished the sentence before she had to jerk slightly, as another push of messy, dark sludge projected out of her throat and ended in the big mess.

"Get her to the hospital!" cried out String.

"No, we can't," said Wick, shaking his head fiercely, "they know her!"

"GET ACE!" cried out Chance furiously, pushing String away from her. "GET ACE! GET HER! FIND HER!" She uttered a helpless cry. Her stomach cramped painfully. "No.." It hit her instantly.

Wick tore down the street to the warehouse. String stayed behind. He pulled back his black hair in a pony tail. String wrapped his hand around Chance's shoulders gently, pulling her toward the local tavern.

"It's okay, it's okay," said String gently in her ear. "I'll help you. I'll help you..."

His voice was frightened, but he was trying to sound strong for her. Chance wrapped an arm around his waist. He was a rookie, but he built strong enough to be part of the league. He was already muscled, but by no means was his spirit as strong as his abdomen that Chance clung to for dear life. Chance felt as if her heart was beating twice as fast. Her lungs craved for freedom. Chance felt her breathe shallow.

_Hyperventilating. Panic. Calm down._

"It's fine, it's fine..." String said loudly. He pushed through the doors. "Somebody, my friend's been poisoned!"

Chance recognized the bartender. It was Whiskey. Whiskey immediately threw down his towel on his shoulder, flew over the counter top quickly, pushed away the bar stools. Whiskey's expression was grave; he took Chance by her stomach and pulled her to an empty booth. A quick glance around the tavern—no body occupied the bar. String watched Whiskey act. Whiskey set her against the table. Whiskey held Chance's face, he stared into her eyes.

"Hands away," whispered Chance breathlessly. She pushed away his hands when he didn't understand, and she vomited onto the floor. Chance grabbed Whiskey's shirt in desperation. Whiskey grabbed her wrist.

"Oh, my god," he gasped. "You're wretching, that's good..."

"Ace..." Chance breathed. "Ace..."

"Ace did this?" said the bartender, temper rising.

"She—knows—" Chance panted after regaining some breath. "She knows—Antidote—! God..."

Chance bent forward and threw up again.

"You're throwing up, that's good. Looks like Bane's got your body learning the bad things you can't ingest!" said Whiskey, as if he was talking to himself.

Whiskey took a cloth from his apron. Chance's mouth was beginning to salivate uncontrollably. She coughed on the intensifying quantities forming in the pockets of her cheeks. Whiskey wiped her mouth with the cloth.

"Open," he said quietly, "Open, open, open."

Chance opened her mouth slowly. He put his hand around her jaw to inspect the inside of her cheeks and tongue.

"Coloring." Whiskey muttered. He glanced to String, who was staring at Chance in fright. "Where is your companion? You're not supposed to traveling alone!"

"He went to find Ace!" said String hurriedly, "She told Wick to get her, she did!"

"Why was _she_ alone?" said Whiskey, indicating Chance.

"We didn't—She was gone—!"

"You _always_ know where she is!" cried out Whiskey.

String opened in mouth to reply but the door burst open, and in came Wick. Whiskey and String turned to see Ace pushed pass the two horrified rookies. Chance bent back on the side of the table, wheezing.

"Oh, God Almighty," Ace whispered, staring at Chance.

"Help her!" cried out Whiskey angrily. "She's dying!"

Ace withdrew a bottle of what looked like a very dark molasses in a small jar. She took some off to her finger, grabbed a handful of Chance's hair, and forced her finger down her throat. At the sudden inclination of danger, Wick and String immediately shot forward to stop Ace from harming their leader any further, but Whiskey pushed them back. Chance choked, but Ace didn't flinch or show any signs of discomfort with her hand down in Chance's windpipe. Chance's knees buckled, and fell to the floor, being held up by Ace's unmoveable clench on her head. Whiskey held his hands out behind Ace, keeping the unruly rookies at bay. They loudly argued with Whiskey about the safety of Chance, but he ordered them to stand down.

Ace's face was calm and collected. Even when Chance's stomach reacted furiously and pushed whatever the dark substance was out of her system, and vomit covered Ace's fingers and wrist—Ace didn't even cringe, unlike Wick and String who flew away to the bathrooms to carry out their own system. Whiskey turned away, disgusted.

Then Ace removed her hand from Chance's esophagus, stepping away from her. Whiskey handed Ace his apron to use as a towel. Ace watched Chance breathe rapidly, holding her throat as she did so, but her breathing started to slow. Whiskey gave a sigh of relief. Chance, weak, rose herself up to the booth to collapse onto the sofa.

When Chance gathered composure, feeling only worse than before, she raised her head to see Ace still standing so calm and collected. At first, she couldn't say anything, then Chance said,

"Thank you..."

Ace shrugged.

"What are friends for?" she smiled at her.


	77. Targets

The City in Pieces

Chapter Seventy-Seven: Targets

Whiskey requested that Chance stay overnight above the tavern instead of returning the home below Gotham. However, Chance wasn't about to let what had happened earlier let slip passed her. Ace, who had finally acknowledged that their friendship was anew, stuck around, quite determined to give the bottle of pills a look-see. Chance took samples from her removed waste from the floor before Whiskey could clean up. As Ace watched Chance examine the contents of her upchuck, she leaned against the dresser drawers, uncomfortable.

"Surely must have been fast poison in these tablets to nearly kill me," muttered Chance, staring at the bottled medication. She stared at the labels.

Ace bit the inside of her cheek.

"I thought they were prescription drugs taken off the black market," confessed Ace diligently. The amount of sincerety in Ace's voice made Chance turn to her. She hadn't heard Ace sound so genuinely concerned in _years._ "If I truly wanted you dead, I'd have done it myself."

"I know this." Chance said honestly, smiling at Ace. "You didn't do this. I knew that. This isn't your style." Chance turned to the microscope to examine the bile. "This is what a coward does."

"Lau gave them to me." Ace said gently. "Perhaps they were intended for you all along."

Chance shrugged her shoulders, "It would be his way. But you hadn't seen me in years when he handed them...off...to..." Chance's voice trailed off. She glanced at Ace, who only gazed at her.

"What?" said Ace.

"These weren't meant for me...These were meant for _you._"

"How does that even make sense? Lau told me that specifically, this Whatever-It-Is was supposed to given to Chance Bremly," said Ace, shaking her head. "He didn't even know that you were in Gotham—Why would he give them to me if they were meant for you?"

"It's a fault in his plan," assumed Chance. Ace only looked at her. Chance held up the petri dish. "When I was in Italy, there was a drug ring in the worst part of the city that I was residing in with Bane. When we found out that the Don who runs the Sicilian family the _Vendettas_, Bane and I worked on creating an immunity against this sort of poison.

"I imagine that when you had given me the actual antidote, I was not far from actually getting rid of the toxins anyway."

"So you're saying that this" she took out the bottle from her pocket—"was meant for me. Lau probably thought that I took medication, considering Joker's methods. I don't self-medicate."

"You don't," confirmed Chance. "I do. But he didn't know that you don't take prescription."

"So he aimed to kill me." Ace concluded. She raised an eyebrow. "Huh, what do you know?"

"You're targeted," said Chance seriously. "Not only have you and Joker managed to make these people your clients, but you've personally become one of their top of the line enemies."

"So what's the drug?" asked Ace, indicating the microscope.

"Cyanide and arsenic, both in concentrated doses." Chance examined, looking into the petri dishes. "Looks like you and Joker are pissing off the mob as well, despite their hire applications." She gave Ace a look. "You might want to let your dear mime know that you two are in danger."

"We're danger all the time."

"No, lawyers on the streets and people in the subways are in danger all the time," said Chance dismissively. "You two are being targeted by the mob. Gambol and his men willing to take Joker dead for $500,000. A party crashed by Batman—How did he even know we were there?" Chance shook her head. "You've got friends in high places that are acting rather low.

"Bane always told me that I can't rely on many people these days. Only him."

"Are you going to tell him that you were poisoned?" asked Ace curiously.

"No, but I sort of have the feeling that he already knows. I've got a hunch that the rookies tonight will have to spread the light to their fellow men." Chance shrugged. "Gossip, gossip. I swear that they don't even fight these days. Anyway, I'll have Whiskey tell the troops that you need officer uniforms and access to weaponry. This is not a problem." Chance said with a smile.

"Well, good." Ace said with a smile. "That's good."

Chance glanced to the microscope.

"What did you intend to do about the mob?" asked Ace, still holding the poison between her fingers. "Don't you think Maroni and them should know that Lau has put a hit on you and me?"

"Maroni isn't part of it," dismissed Chance certainly.

At her confident tone, Ace scoffed.

"Oh, Chance, because he is an old colleague? People turn on each other all the time. It's likely that you and he were just bound to clash again. You're not safe anywhere you go." Ace sat down on the bed behind Chance, who looked over her left shoulder to watch her old friend. "Maroni isn't a person who is noble, Chance. He'll kill you once he has the opportunity, without hesitation. I've always thought that I was a target. This isn't surprising to me. But you're needed back in Bulgaria with Bane; Joker could live without me, but I'm not too sure that you and Bane are in the same boat."

"He needs me," assured Chance about Bane's situation.

"He seems to be doing fine without you, now," Ace said casually, looking at Chance surely.

"Fine, then I need him," muttered Chance, slightly hurt.

"That's not what I meant." Ace disregarded lightly, shaking her head. "You're a target in Gotham, above and below the waist line, Chance. So far, everything's gone according to what Joker has planned all the time. We only need your assistance in certain tweaks of the plan. We have trusted men here. You should go back to Bulgaria and visit Bane for a few days."

"I'm not even sure if he wants me there."

At Chance's tone, Ace gave her a look.

"You think I sit around with Joker because he wants me there? No," she declined instantly, "I sit with him and stand around him even if he wants me gone because eventually, it's habit for him to see me there, if he needs me or wants me gone. I'm there. It's like a marriage." Ace said with a smile. "I know that if I were to just up and go, he'd be going in circles like a lost puppy."

Chance stared at her.

"What's your point to this?" she said in a bored voice.

"You're not Bane's soldier much anymore. He likes your company, or else why would he put with your smart-ass remarks, Chance?"

Chance shrugged.

Ace moved her hands in a way to show Chance that she knew exactly what she was talking about. Chance had to give Ace credit in knowing how to understand men. Chance merely knew how to get them to say what she wanted or do what she needed them to do. Ace might have been more socially inclined, which was bizarre, owing to the need to point out the fact that Ace was nearly a psychopath.

"I'll have Whiskey do the transactions," said Chance in conclusion. "Think you can take charge when I'm gone?"

"It's all good," said Ace with a grin.

"Are you going to throw those away?" asked Chance, indicating the bottle.

"Throw them away? Hell, no. I'm still a murderer, Chance. I'll have use out of these in the long run." Then Ace pocketed the pills in her jeans proudly. "You should rest, Chance."

Chance nodded. She wandered to her bed and set by her pillows.

Ace approached the door and turned, setting a finger on the light switch. As Chance drew comfort from the blanket and the pillows, Ace watched her friend sleep on her side. She turned off the light and closed the door. When it clicked, the room fell into silence, and Chance fell asleep.


	78. Weak

The City in Pieces

Chapter Seventy-Eight: Weak

In the early morning, Chance made an arrangement with the original flight plan. Ace was right, of course, which on rarity, Chance wouldn't have thought so. She hadn't considered Bane's take on her being poisoned. Even though she already knew about the truth, or maybe possible truth, about her impended death, Chance wondered if Bane had one outlook on it. She considered the fact that perhaps he was concerned, or maybe he hadn't heard about her fatality at all. Ace's time with Joker would make the clown seem less able to live without his little henchwench; perhaps Bane would grow to be like that with Chance.

Chance entertained the notion that Bane was in Bulgaria, interrogating Pavel, but all the while, when sleep would come to him, he would dream of her. Like she dreamed of him when sleep caught up with her. He hadn't ever said that he loved her, and Chance was wondering if he really did. Of course, actions spoke words in the past year: for one, he had risked sabotaging the plan when he threatened to kill Ace; two, he had taken off his mask to kiss her; three, he handed her a dagger for the special occasion; and he concerned himself with her safety. But Chance wondered if he was actually in love, by definiton, with her. Talia al Ghul was given special treatment by Bane as well, but they weren't lovers.

Chance believed that staying out of Gotham for a few days might take some heat off her back. The mob, after all, was after Joker and Ace, while at the same time, they were working for them. It wasn't bizarre to know that two allies could be enemies at the same time. It was evident that until Gordon arrested them, none of the mob wanted anything to do with Joker; but when two people have a common enemy, such as Batman, it's easy to rally together against an opponent.

Ace was quick to gather Chance's supplies from the tavern. Whiskey, who was waiting for her by the door, took up the lead role in the League of Shadows, honoring the oath that until she returned, he would be in charge.

Chance informed Bane briefly that she was coming to Bulgaria in a private jet, strayed from airlines. Bane didn't respond to her return, only understanding that she didn't need so much attention at Gotham while trying to act under the radar. Only a few people in the League knew that she was leaving. The entire city would be under the impression that Chance Bremly was still lurking in the shadows.

When Chance arrived in Bulgaria, Bane met her at the airport in a deep, midnight-black van, sitting in the driver's seat, watching her walk down the steps of the airplane through tinted windows. His chin rested in his hand, supported by the jut out of the door handle. His eyes watched Chance take one luggage case, walking his way. She looked, as usual, stunning: dressed in black, pin-striped slacks and a pleasantly black, open-collared blouse; hair up in a ponytail—Chance could pull off any look, even a lawyer one. Bane watched her come to the passenger side He flicked a switch on the steering wheel. Chance opened the unlocked door, pushed her suitcase into the back of the van, and slipped into the passenger seat, closing the door behind her.

Bane looked her over one more time; she smiled at him when she realized what he was doing.

"Long time, no see," she said sweetly. She casually leaned toward him and planted a butterfly peck on his exposed flesh on his cheek. A smile reached his eyes.

"You haven't changed. How's Gotham?" he said pleasantly, pulling the stick to D in drive. Chance shrugged.

"Same ol', same ol'." Chance muttered.

"Why the pant suit?" he indicated her wear.

"I can't dress up?"

"You can. But you don't." Bane pointed out flatly, pulling the car onto a traffic lane.

A silence filled the cavity of the vehicle. Chance could feel the familiar hit of nausea in her stomach when she glanced at him, and he was looking at the road. _Could he have shown that he missed me even a little bit?_

"So," she said hesitantly, "has Pavel agreed to the terms? Building the bomb?"

"We're having a little trouble, getting him to cooperate."

"I figured that you'd have him begging to do it. An option better than being widowed," she clarified, when he glanced at her direction inquiringly. "Your methods have always been truth over pain, Bane."

"It's a system that always works." Bane informed her.

"What ever happened to using his family against him?"

"We have been practicing the use of torture."

"You? A torturer of the body?" said Chance with little interest. "If you tortured him, you'd kill him."

"By 'we', I mean the other men in the room." Bane said more clearly. "Were I to be his interrogator, I'd have killed him by now."

"I know." Chance affirmed. "But pain isn't always the way to do it. There are other ways."

When Bane looked at her again, she was smiling.

"I'm listening." Bane said.

"From experience," began Chance, "when Ace and I were doing our rounds together, sometimes our clients would have some trouble cooperating with us, even when we did our shpill with the pain and the torture, so on. Well, in times when frustration would just wear us out, we turned to something a bit more provocative."

"Provocative?" said Bane cynically. "Sex?"

"Not the act itself," said Chance, teetering her hand to and fro. "But something like that."

"Chance, I am not about to put my men up for fellatio. Or you."

Chance chuckled, "That's not what I meant."

"Then speak."

"I'd rather just show you when we get there." Chance said gently.

"Considering options are running out, I'll indulge you for the time being." Bane said, nodding his head. "We'll do it your way."

Another rain of silence.

"Bane?"

"Mm?"

"You know that I was poisoned in Gotham. Right?"

Chance felt her cheeks redden. If he said 'no', it would explain his relative calmnity. If he did, why was he so casual? Shouldn't he be worried that she could have died? Wouldn't anyone react negatively. He was so calm.

"Yes." Bane answered. "But you weren't the target, I was told."

"I was still a target," said Chance gently. "It was a Cyanide and Arsenic, compiled in a deadly dose." When Bane said nothing, she continued, "it was made for Ace. The mob's trying to hit her." Still nothing. "I almost died..."

"But you didn't." Bane said, indicating her presence with a simple hand gesture. "As I understand it, it was Ace who saved you. The immunity process we had developed in Italy came in handy, didn't it?"

Chance stared at him.

"I almost died." Chance repeated, more abruptly.

"I know." Bane said.

"Well, doesn't that concern you?" said Chance slowly.

"No." Bane confirmed just as suddenly.

Chance's face fell.

"You weren't concerned."

"Chance, we spent years, studying alchemy, studying the vital key points of recovering from deadly toxins. It's no surprise to me that your body developed acid reflex from delving into something that it knew was dangerous. In all fact, I am pleased to know that you are very much alive."

Chance gave him a look.

"So there was no need to let me know that you knew?" said Chance coldly.

Bane sighed.

"You're starting to raise your voice to me."

"I'm a woman, that's what we do when we're angry," said Chance, no longer restraining her rising fury. When Bane didn't say anything in return, she continued. "Bane, I've known you for six years. We have been friends for a _while._ If you found out that I was poisoned, why didn't you check on me?"

"I knew that you would be fine." Bane assured her.

"That must be what I am: fine."

Bane turned the car to the left and stopped at a bar club, parking the vehicle in the lot. He turned off the ignition and turned to look at the irritated woman in his car.

"All right, Chance. Clearly, there is something else bothering you. What is it?"

"You don't react like you should." Chance said. "If I found out that you were nearly killed, you know what I would have done? I'd have dropped everything and come to your side? How did you react when you found out that I had been poisoned, Bane? Did you shrug your shoulders and let by-gones be by-gones? Did you even flinch?"

"I care enough that I would have gone to the world and back to keep you from dying," said Bane seriously.

"Oh is that it? You care enough. Well, that's not good enough for me."

"Not good enough?" Bane said; his voice, a thunder clap against her voice in comparison. "What isn't good enough? I have given you what I had promised: equality."

"That's not what I want anymore." Chance said. "You treat me the same way that you treat Talia these days. A friend, nothing more."

"Romance is deadly in an operation, Chance. We can't compromise it with trivial matters of the heart."

"My heart is not trivial!" Chance said angrily. She bored eyes into Bane's. "_I_ am not trivial."

"Did you come all the way from Gotham to tell me this?" asked Bane, indicating her present emotion. "I do not think," he said when she only gave him a nasty look, "that you are expendable, which is giving you some credit. These men work everyday to live for what we stand for, what we will stand for—Who we are does not matter, it's all about our plan."

"Your _plan_?" said Chance, setting her hands on her seat. "I _am_ part of your plan! Me! I'm right here, Bane!" She bit her tongue out of frustration. "Look, you've given me all the signs. I caught them. I want you to say it..." She said suddenly gentle.

He looked at her.

"Say what?"

"Say that..." she muttered, "you...love me."

"Love is a weakness." Bane said blatantly. "We can't admit it. It's a weakness."

"It's a cross we must bear," said Chance tenderly. "I know that somewhere in that large skull of yours, you do feel _something_ for me. _Anything._ I know it. It's there. I've seen it in your eyes." She indicated his face. "I see it _now._"

"Chance—"

"It's a weakness, fine!" Chance said, sparking her temper. "Well, you know what is wrong with the entire prospect of romance and these operations? You know what it is? I _am_ weak," she said passionately, "but not in mind or body or soul—if I even have one anymore—I'm not weak for anything like that. I have weakness! But it's not for anyone or anything. I'm weak for _you..."_

Bane could only look at her in slight dismay.

"Chance, we can't complicate our ordeal anymore than what we have done. It's risky enough as it is to sleep together."

"I don't care about the sex, Bane," said Chance. "Yes, it's good, but—I don't even care if we never do that again, but I have to hear you say it. It's a female, logical perception, Bane. I want to hear you say it."

Bane shook his head.

"Your logic is flawed."

Chance's mouth fell open slightly, furious.

"Flawed? _Flawed?" _Chance gave an angry cry inside the car. "_Flawed? _I'm _flawed?_ What is it? Is it some kind of pride thing? Is it me? How about I just scratch away my flaws, Bane? Would it be good enough? You find out that I was poisoned, and you don't even react?"

Chance punched the door. Bane watched her incredulously.

"How about this?" she said angrily. "If I went missing, would you find me? If I died, would you mourn me? If anything like that happened, would you even regret this? I put myself in harm's way to be appreciated by a man so apathetic, he doesn't even care—But wait, maybe MIA and death are just too permanent! Well, maybe you can try this on for size!" Chance's breathing was quick. She was enraged. "How about I _left_ you, Bane? What if I confessed I was sleeping with a new man? Huh? Would that stir some feelings? Me with another man who could—_Ah!_"

Bane's hand flew into Chance's cheek. She was punched so hard that she barreled into the door and it fell off its hinges. Glass shattered the ground the moment the window hit the concrete. Chance lay, flattened, on the passenger door, bleeding from the jaw. She gasped in pain, staring into the sky. From around the car, Chance glanced to her right to see Bane approaching her. He bent down beside her. Chance looked into his eyes.

They were blazing. Furious. And hurt.

Chance's limbs were weak. Bane set a hand on her broken jaw. In a flash, Chance screamed in pain as he corrected her wound. Blood drizzled from her lips. Bane wiped her blood with a tissue from his pocket. She was lying on glass shards, uncomfortable. Chance winced when she again peered into his eyes.

She raised a weak a hand to his face, shaking her head slightly.

"I'm...sorry..." she whispered.

"Apologizing is weakness." Bane said in a low voice. "You are weak, and I know that you are so, for me."

His hand fell to hers on his face.

"And it seems that you've hit a nerve of mine," said Bane, indicating her position on the passenger door. "So, incidentally," he passed a hand along her face, "I'm weak for you, too."

"I'm sorry..." Chance whispered again.

Bane shook his head.

"People do crazy things," he said, assisting Chance to her feet from the broken door, "when they're in love."


	79. What's Necessary

**Author's Note**: Was that intense or what? :D We're back on track with Bane now. Joker Fans, don't feel too sad now; we'll have to go back to Ace and Joker's fun sooner or later. For the few readers that have stuck with this story through all the Ace and Joker scenes, good job!

_Now, if you all can be so kind, I would like you to give me your opinion on Ace. Is she sexy and dangerous compared to the calculating and seductive Chance? Do you think she's a bit of a backstabber? Could Chance and Ace make a great team? Do you think Ace will reconsider Chance's offer in joining the League of Shadows?_ You can put it in your review of this chapter or PM me.

Thanks, now onto the real reason why you're reading this chapter: Chapter 79. :)

Warning: This chapter is a bit worse than the others that I've written.

The City in Pieces

Chapter Seventy-Nine: What's Necessary

Leonide Pavel had considered harming one of his extremeties while the masked mercenary, a man named Bane, was out of the cold dungeon. Dr. Pavel, though, couldn't decide which of his body parts he wouldn't need later on in life, so he sucked up the sadness that poured from his lonely heart, and could only stare at the contract on the otherwise empty desk in front of him. Pavel found himself locked in a room by himself, an abandoned office, perhaps. He wondered why every place that a villain could reside was always abandoned. If criminals were so rich, one would imagine that they would just buy their own lairs instead of fashioning up make-shifts from shit.

Pavel knew that there might have been maybe at least one other guard standing outside the door. If he called for help, it was likely that he would get his throat clobbered again by the large guard that always seemed to be standing there whenever Bane entered the room.

Pavel wanted to sign the contract, just to get the matter over with, to avoid any more punishment. He was a nuclear physicist, not a man of the FBI who could stand days of torture. But Pavel counted himself as a brave man: three days had passed, he saw on his watch, and he withstood the beatings. Bane would always watch from the wall.

Pavel had considered tearing up the contract itself. It was just paper. But they could always fashion a new one. He was stuck. He knew this. His family was in danger. His wife. His children. Pavel feared for the worse that Bane would take his wife. Yet something probed in his head about the young woman that had ceased him in the first place from the park. A rest of tranquility, she had stirred him from thought. A beautiful woman with light hair, pale skin, and stunningly, piercing blue eyes. He had thought she was an intellectual like himself, but it turned out that she was working for Bane all along. He hoped that she would return. She seemed more apt to be understanding then the men he was facing.

Pavel recalled that the woman was the only female he had ever seen. Their first conversation seemed so innocuous, too.

"_I always wondered," _the beautiful woman had said, appearing from beside him, _"why a nymph would always be exposed when displayed in public."_

"_I'm not clear on the matter," _Pavel had so passively stated to her. _"I haven't the head for history."_

"_History and science do not coincide, do they?"_

"_I think they do." _Pavel had disagreed_. "What man has to offer to the world is precious. In both fields, he can learn all he desires, all he wants. And he can still remember his own life."_

"_Can you remember yourself in death, I wonder." _The woman had retorted. Pavel could see just how foreboding that statement was now.

"_Even in death,"_ Pavel had replied_, "we learn new things. One day, we all hope that life will lose, and we will win."_

"_You don't ever win, Sir," _she had said seriously_. "You just do a little better every time."_

Pavel remembered getting into that car, then seeing..._him._ Bane frightened him. He was so huge, and that mask on his face—Pavel shuddered at the memory.

Then he felt a terrible feeling pass through his stomach. Chance's low voice penetrated his mind in an echoing fever:

"_I told you that I wondered if you could see yourself after death. Fail to act as Bane says, and your family will be the first to know." _

Pavel rose to his feet immediately: his heart pounded against his chest, his stomach tightened unpleasantly, and his mind raced.

_What if she wasn't bluffing?_

Then, speak of the devil, the door of the dungeon opened, and in came the same beautiful woman. She was stunning in a pantsuit. Blonde, blue-eyed, and wearing an expression of hardened control. Her hand came to the light switch on her left. When the lights turned on, the entire office was lit with white brightness. Her face was pale. Pavel stared at the man behind her. Bane. Pavel watched the woman approach him from the doorway.

"Doctor, it's been a long time, dear." Chance closed the door behind her.

"What else could you ask of me?" said Pavel miserably.

"We only want your skills." Chance said honestly. "Shedding your blood any more is a waste of our time. I've asked the men there to hold off on you. I think you will speak to me better if you're not being abused or coerced into saying anything."

Pavel watched the blonde cross the room to sit on the edge of the desk that upon which laid the contract.

"You haven't signed it, I see." Chance observed the empty signature line. "Perhaps Bane hasn't been clear?"

"I cannot participate in the destruction of a city, Miss. It's dangerous."

"Your situation doesn't warrant you a position in which you can be bargaining, Doctor." Chance said seriously, indicating the room with both hands. "You are trapped here. Stuck. Doomed to stay down here without family. They live up there without you. We know where they are. I know where they are."

"You can't ask me to do this."

Chance picked up the piece of paper and offered it to him.

"I'm not asking: I'm telling you. Sign it."

"I can't agree to it. I don't like the contract."

"Whether you like it or not is irrevelant. Sign it in ink, or sign it in blood."

"I can't."

Chance looked impatiently at him.

"Sign it in ink...Or sign it in _your_ blood."

"No."

Chance slid off the desk and approached the doctor with the contract in hand.

"You've got some balls, Doc. But I'm not above castration, Pavel."

She whipped out a knife and held the opened blade against Pavel's waist line of trousers.

"Sign the goddamn contract, or I will send your balls to your wife in a velvet bag."

Chance's eyes glowered into his. He closed his eyes, and gritted his teeth.

"Do it."

Chance raised her eyebrows.

"Hm, a martyr." She shrugged. "Go figure."

"I will not be responsible for the city's destruction."

"I don't care. Sign the damn thing."

"No."

"Do it."

"_No._"

"If you won't do it," said Chance threateningly, "I can make your family do it."

"They won't sign it."

Chance slammed the contract on the desk, then turned angrily to the door.

"Bring in the boy!" she said angrily.

Pavel's face fell. His eyes charged to the entrance door where Bane shoved in an 9-year-old boy into the dark. He was crying. Pavel stepped forward to coddle his oldest son, but just as the two of them started to embrace, Chance stepped in between them. She pushed Pavel to the floor. The boy cried out "DADDY!" but Chance ignored him. She took the young man by the nape of his collared shirt, holding him tightly against her thigh, while Pavel stared in horror at his little one being held hostage by Chance. Chance held the boy's head up, the knife only centimeteres from his throat.

"Daddy...make the lady stop..Daddy...I'm scared." The boy's eyes were watery; he was crying. His little hands attempted to pry Chance's hands from his clothes, but the motions were effortless. Pavel, on his romp, stared, pertrified, into Chance's eyes.

Chance smoothed a hand over the boys hair as a mother would, but gave Pavel a horrible look.

"Sh, sh, sh, sh, little one, it's okay," said Chance in a maternal tone. "You're going to help me convince your dear old dad to do me a little favor. Hm?"

The boy's cries softened when Chance pocketed the knife. Chance lowered herself to his eye level. The boy avoided her gaze, crying softly.

"Oh, sh, sh, sh, sweetie, come now." Chance lowered his hands from his face. "Those men out there are nasty to you, aren't they? It's all right. Hey, look at me."

The boy's brown eyes looked into hers, frightened.

"I want my daddy...I want my daddy..." he said to her.

"Oh, I know, sweetheart, but your daddy's being a tad unfair. He's not keeping his promises." She turned to Pavel, who watched cautiously. "Are you, _daddy?_"

"Don't you harm a hair on his little head!" said Pavel dangerously.

"Daddy..." the boy cried.

Chance released the boy gently. Pavel and his son embraced each other in a tender moment.

"Sign the document, Pavel," said Chance gently, "or I will use your son's blood for ink."

"You're making me choose?" said Pavel, horrified.

"Are you having trouble making a decision?" said Chance, almost incredulously.

"Chance, please..."

Chance sighed impatiently. She came forward. Her arms wrapped around the boy's waist; Pavel tried holding onto his son's arms but her grip was much stronger.

"No, please, miss, please! My son!"

"Daddy, no! Daddy!" The boy yelled out in panic.

"Sign the contract!" Chance screamed over the boy's voice. She brought the child away from Pavel, withdrew the knife and held the blade to the boy's neck, standing behind him.

"Daddy! Daddy! Please, Daddy! Daddy!"

"Please, I can't destroy these people's lives and help my son—!"

"—Sign the goddamn document or your son _dies_!"

"DADDY!"

"I CAN'T!" Pavel shrieked, falling to his knees. "I can't! Please, have mercy! Have mercy!"

"SIGN IT!" Chance bellowed over the boys cry. "Sign it or I will kill him! I swear to GOD!"

"PLEASE!"

Chance, bearing a look that was more pained then defiant, took the knife to the boy's neck and slid the blade across in a hesitant gesture—The boys' cries ceased. Pavel's son toppled to the floor, a motionless, carved empty soul. Pavel screamed in horror and pain. Chance's face was marked with sadness, and even though tears fell down her face in irreparable pain, watching Pavel flail in agony and heartache, Chance turned to the door.

"Send in the second boy!"

The door opened, and the second born was thrown into the room. Pavel tried passing up Chance, but he was stopped by a punch in the mouth. Chance pushed him back and grabbed the second born son by the arm, holding the knife.

"I'LL KILL HIM TOO! SIGN IT! SIGN THE FUCKING PAPER, PAVEL!"

"_Please, take me instead! Punish _me_!"_

"DADDY!"

When Pavel didn't cooperate, Chance turned on her heel, guiding the boy outside to kill him where Pavel couldn't see. Then Pavel's nerves clicked when Chance closed the door behind her, and the son screamed a penetrating shriek.

Pavel then found his voice. He took the contract from the desk, and headed straight to the locked door. Pavel pounded the steel with a weak hand.

"Please! Please! I'll cooperate! Please! No!" he found his voice breaking, and tears fell from his eyes to roll down his cheeks. "Take me! Punish me! I beg of you! I beg of you! Please...just don't hurt my son...Don't hurt my love!" He felt his limbs weaken. When the boy's words couldn't be heard, Pavel was sure that Chance had killed his second child.

"PLEASE! I'LL DO IT! I'LL DO IT!"

Pavel fell to his stomach, shrieking aloud in agony and pain as he glanced behind him to see the body of his lifeless boy. Then the door opened. Pavel's eyes widened. His second-born approached him, arms around his neck. He cried into his father's shirt. Pavel wrapped his hands around his boy, thankful.

Chance appeared from the doorway. Tears streaked her cheek.

She hadn't wanted to kill anyone, but the only way to get to Pavel was to hurt him where it hurt most. Killing children was one thing that Chance never wanted to do, but it seemed like it was necessary. She dropped the bloody knife in her hand, the dagger that Bane had bought her that one special day. Chance approached Pavel slowly, holding her stomach as nausea set in.

"Sign the document," she said hoarsely, "and I will leave you in peace..."

Pavel glared at her, but he took the pen in her offered hand, scribbled is name on the line, handed it back to her, and took his boy to the farthest wall. Together, they mourned the death of a son and brother. Chance backed out of the office, closing the door behind her.

When she turned to leave, Bane was standing there, almost in awe.

"Here." Chance handed him the contract. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to find the nearest hole, and vomit into it..."


	80. Second Thoughts

Author's Note: I literally had to go to the bathroom after writing the last chapter. Made my stomach turn once I finished. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews on 'What's Necessary' and Ace. I love it when I get reviews back. :) Here. We. Go.

The City in Pieces

Chapter Eighty: Second Thoughts

When Bane closed the final deal with Pavel, all the while glancing at the dead body of Pavel's first born child, he knew that Chance had broken a fourth wall, enclosed in the dark office, listening to Pavel refusals and pleas while the little boy had been begging his father to save him. Bane had heard the commotion from outside the steel door, and although he had been so curious to know about what the hell Chance was doing to the family, he had stood his ground. The guards outside had wanted to check in on Chance as well, but he had ordered for them to stand down. Then Bane had heard her second order, to bring in the next child. All Bane had seen when he sent the boy in was her face streaked with tears, a sickened expression on her face. He was accustomed to seeing her distraught in situations where it dealt with people younger than the age of consent, and he was no stranger to her compassionate personality, but something triggered in his body.

He hadn't understood what it meant, though he had felt it before. Familiar to its purging heat in the core of his abdomen, he had felt the sting when he had watched, whom he hadn't known her her identity at the time, Ra's al Ghul's young wife be poached by rabid men in Hell on Earth. He had felt strong emotion, clamoring through the bodies wildly, rescuing a little girl, Talia, from the group of animals. He had saved her, though the mother hadn't been so lucky. Bane knew the feeling as love, for he had loved—still loved, Talia, though the romance died the moment when Ra's al Ghul excommunicated him. Bane put the two circumstances together. Chance was distraught, vulnerable to the weakest part of her attributes, which was the maternal instinct. Bane had the inkling that the reason he felt so compelled to pursue her once he handed her the signed contract was that she had to fight one of her most basic urges: protecting children.

Bane's knowledge of her past, eidetic memory and all, was that she had always refused killing 'foals'. She could harm rotten teenagers—Hell, he recalled that she nearly murdered a few who attempted rape on her person—but little boys and girls...That was forbidden fruit, and she'd never touch it. Until tonight. Bane could tell that it wasn't going to be easy to try to coax her out of the mood she left in, tears on her cheeks; her hands clenched her stomach when she walked away, numb.

Bane had ordered the few agents outside to clean up the dead boy on the floor. His corpse would stink up the dungeon and would eventually peak through the corridors. The university would suspect something was awry below. The last thing Bane wanted to happen was for police to show up. Of course, they could always travel light and return to Gotham.

Pocketing the phamplet in his cargo pocket of his jeans, Bane strode through the hallway quietly. Since Chance's departure of Bulgaria the first time, their chambers were moved closer to the barracks of the League of Shadows: not a long way to go in order to pass orders. The bedroom was only a flight of stairs away, so Bane took the stairs. His lumbering form made his footsteps heavy and ominous to those who waited for his next orders. When he passed them, they sighed in obvious relief.

Bane found the door easily, locating the bedroom in a barren corridor. He turned the doorknob; it was unlocked. When he crossed the threshold, he recognized the sleek beauty standing against the wall. Her back was to him. She had her arms outstretched against the stone, head bowed, standing as if someone was about to do a cavity search on her. Bane narrowed his eyes at her. He watched her closely. Her breathing in a shallow manner.

He already knew what she had been doing. She had been crying again.

Bane's stomach tore at the fact that such a small thing could injure her mind. One death tonight occurred, and she was thrown into emotional turmoil. She was still going to be killing children once Gotham was blown to hell, what was so different? Bane was certain, though, that it was this ocassion that she had to do the murder one-on-one. Dropping bombs on Hiroshima could be easy for anyone to do—No one really sees death. Taking a knife to a boy's neck and watching him die, that's different.

"Chance." Bane said in a rumbling voice. He attempted tenderness. He could do that sometimes. Talia never asked him to be gentle. Chance didn't expect him to be it either, but after working with a woman for so long, Bane considered that sometimes, a woman would just want some kind of endurement.

His voice offered some kind of comfort to Chance, obviously, for she stirred when he said her name. In all terms of endearment, he could use anything, and she would melt, but the only time he ever called her 'dear' was if he was tired of saying her name. Bane watched her shoulders hunch slightly. Fear? Or self-loathing? Or perhaps both?

"Chance," started Bane in a soft voice, "you've been in here for a long time."

"I'm..." said Chance in a broken, hushed voice, "I'm...Oh, I...I've thought some...terrible things."

Ominous and deep-dwelling sensations trumped Bane's stomach. He watched her shudder.

"Things," said Chance, shaking her head, "that I wouldn't have ever thought of doing..."

"You're frightened." Bane assumed, watching her. He entered the room full-bodily.

She straightened her back and turned to look at him. Bane could see circles under her eyes. Chance looked absolutely distraught.

"_Yes."_ Chance breathed in a shaky whisper.

When he took a few steps toward her, he wasn't surprise that she stepped back. He could tell that something was really bothering her, and he was sure that he wasn't going to like what she was thinking of saying.

"Before you tell me what is plaguing that mind of yours, tread carefully." Bane said in a low voice.

"'Tread carefully'," Chance muttered, staring at him. "I must always tip toe across shattered glass..." He approached her ever closer, and she set her hands up in front of her.

"Am I frightening you?" he asked her.

"_Yes,_" whispered Chance.

He had her cornered.

"What is making you act like this?"

"I feel that if I continue to do this," said Chance quietly, "_this,_ being in the League of Shadows...Oh, you'll hate me for saying it."

"I have a feeling of what you're telling me, but you're not getting off that easy." Bane said, watching her. Her eyes searched his. He knew. He could practically see the visage in her eyes.

"I don't know if I can be a part of this much longer..." Chance stated the truth out right.

"You want out?" he said in a deadly whisper.

Chance flinched as if he had hit her.

"I cannot," she said, trying to compose herself, "kill a young person like that again, Bane."

"You did well, Chance." Bane said, indicating said murder. "You did what was necessary."

"Necessary?" said Chance in a voice bereft of any pride in her work. "I killed him. So easily. So simple. I hate how it bothers me, but it does. I'm not a stone cold killer. I'm _not _Ace."

"The fact that you are not like Ace is a good reason why I still want you in this League," said Bane. "You're suffering from post-traumatic stress, thinking that you have to stray away from what has hurt you. I know that you have never killed a child before. This was your first time. It's understood why you would want to reconsider. However," he set a hand under her chin; she winced, "I will not be accepting resignations from any of my followers. Not from you, especially."

Chance lowered his hand from her face.

"You don't understand."

"One of us was eventually going to kill his family," said Bane passively. "The only way to reach a man is to stab him in the heart." She searched his eyes. "And you did what was expected of you. Anyone in your place would have done the same."

"Then why didn't you do it?" said Chance, her eyes ablaze. "Why let me start in on his children?"

"Because I already took my turn when I killed the mother of his children," stated Bane calmly.

Chance looked at him with wide eyes.

"You killed his wife?"

"In front of him," said Bane. "And, still, he did nothing."

Chance looked down slightly. Bane raised her chin with his hand.

"Some people are given the instincts to save their families first before complete strangers. Pavel does not share that trait. He isn't one of the people that deserve your compassion." Bane said seriously.

"I have to at least explain to Pavel about—"

"Talking to him will not ease your conscience."

"It's writhing in agony at my feet," said Chance blatantly. "I want it stop screaming."

"You regret following orders?" said Bane dangerously.

Chance shook her head.

"I follow your orders because you frighten me sometimes, Bane. I did it because it was necessary. I regret it, because it wasn't the right thing to do."

"And what would have been the _right_ thing to do, Chance?" retorted Bane sardonically. "Set his children free? Let the scientist go?"

He scoffed and walked away from her.

"You know," said Chance, "that I don't think that any of that is true."

When he said nothing, Chance shook her head in dismay.

"I know that you didn't come here to start a fight with me," she said. "I know you mean well."

"Our lives circle around good intentions. The end is judged by the cause, not the means."

"I understood that. I'm just...feeling bad about it."

Bane looked at her.

"If you were a cold shell like Ace," he said, "do you think that I would have let you live any longer than what you have?"

"If I were Ace, I'd say I'd have killed you." Chance said honestly.

"Is that right?"

Chance smiled.

"No. I'm lying. You'd have killed me if I were Ace."

Bane nodded.

"Mm..." was his word of agreement.


	81. 48 Hours

The City in Pieces

Chapter Eighty-One: 48 Hours

By all literal standards, Chance Bremly was only away from Gotham for two days. In the middle of the night, a stirring unleashed itself in the pit of Chance's loins, purging every feeling of guilt, pity, and anger toward her recent murder of innocent and truth. She was engulfed within it that she had reached for alcohol, any numbing agent to produce at least lukewarm feelings to calm her mind from reliving the moment, but Bane, who had about enough of intoxicated nights at last, withdrew the full bottle of whiskey. Instead, he took a young woman's advice, and did what he had seen people do on the big movie screen. He sacrificed her intoxication for what was summarily known in the teenage years as 'pity sex'. Chance hadn't declined the notion. She was already furious with him about her withdrawal from the liquor, so when he merely grabbed her, she swarmed him like an angry bee swarm.

Chance was only gone for two days, but in those forty-eight hours, Gotham had become excited, though not as much as it sounded through the voice of one very enthusiastic Ace Leswaae. But her timing was horrible. Chance and Bane, both stripped of their clothing, shook the bed with utmost ferocity: no love was in it, just lust and the hope that Chance would move pass the feeling of shame and contempt for her selfless act. Ace, who had actually used a cell phone to call Chance, was on the other line, as the dial tone continued to banter forth.

"Leave it..." Bane told her through a very low moan; her body writhed beneath him, though she raised a hand to stop him in order to answer it.

Very reluctant in wanting to interrupt their animal instincts, Chance still insisted, though through pained and pleasured spills of groans, that the call was to be answered. Bane, officially cockblocked by technology, growled in protest, and as if with a final word, he pounded into her pelvic cavity, grasping her waist in such a vice. The force itself knocked the breath out of Chance's lungs, but his efforts were congratulatory. That extra push was the same one that shoved Chance over the edge, and she fell into orgasm anyway. Pleased with himself, Bane relinquished his hold of her, rolled off her body, and sat against the headboard, breathing heavily. Chance positioned herself achily against the headboard as well, naked as the sun was bright, and took her cell phone off the end table. Bane's eyes glanced at her when she answered it swiftly,

"What, Ace?" said Chance. Bane was pleased to hear that she had an edge in that voice of hers. He recognized it as an accepted annoyance: just a simmer below highly agitated.

"You might be hearing quite a few things when you get back." Ace said gently on the other line.

"Did the operation fail?" asked Chance, leaning forward seriously. Bane watched her expression, engrossed in her face. Chance's faciala expressions could tell the story. Bane wasn't surprised to see some anxiety in her eyes.

"I'm not saying that it failed," said Ace honestly. "As usual, things sort of..._get in the way..._"

"Get in the way?" said Chance, hearing the entitled point in Ace's voice. "What happened?"

"All went according to plan," said Ace, "it's just that when Joker aimed for the mayor, Gordon used himself as a human shield."

"Gordon's_ dead?_" said Chance in clear annoyance.

Bane made a face that expressed some interest. Chance glanced at him. He wasn't angry. Why was she? Gordon wasn't part of the plan, but perhaps Bane considered him a nice bonus. Chance sighed.

"We're almost certain," said Ace in return, evidently unashamed of the matter. "A gunshot to the chest. Even with a bullet proof vest, the bullets we have on hand are more penetrateable. We got 'em off the market," she added. "They're cop killers."

"What of the Mayor?"

"Post trauamtic shock, but otherwise, breathing," said Ace. Her voice was in dislike.

"And Harvey?" inquired Chance.

"Alive as ever." Ace stated in a bored voice. "Though we've got one thing settled. Would you like to know what it is?"

"That's the main reason you called, right?" said Chance irritably.

"Guess who Joker's aiming for next? You'll love this."

"Tell me the name."

In a finality voice, Ace said with squirmish delight,

"Rachel. Dawes."

It took Chance a moment to understand, but she disapproved of it.

"Why Dawes?" said Chance.

"She's getting in the way." Ace said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You never explained to me why you convinced her to hook-up with the re-formed Two Face."

"It's not important," said Chance.

In honesty, it was important, but Ace couldn't know that the reason why Chance turned Rachel to Dent was to make sure that Bruce no longer had someone who can give him the chance of the normal life. Bruce Wayne would always be Batman. He just couldn't help himself.

Ace replied without argument, "Whatever. Oh, and there's another thing?"

"Not another target?" suggested Chance with crossed fingers.

"No. Batman's tracked Maroni."

"What?" said Chance in immediate concern.

"I actually saw the confrontation myself. Batman dropped Maroni from the fire escape, broke his legs. Batman's tracking Joker now, and he wants him."

"Did he give up anything?"

"There's nothing to give up if he wanted to," said Ace. Chance could pratically see Ace shrugging carelessly. "Joker's got his thugs, and me, under lock and key. The mob doesn't know where he is, and we don't have friends on the outside, so it's less likely that we'll be found at all."

"Is Maroni okay?" asked Chance. To that, Bane gave her a look.

"He's fine," dismissed Ace. "He pretty much laid the law down on old Bats. His men won't play against Joker; Batman has rules, you know. Joker doesn't even follow the rules to Old Maid. He just takes the old Grandma and rips up each queen in the deck."

"What point does that serve?" asked Chance curiously.

"No Old Maid in the deck, he always wins," said Ace admirably. "But we always have to get more decks. We can't play any games without face cards." Then she added, "You have to earn the right to be a face card." A few silent pauses. "Oh," said Ace as if to mark a side note, "and if you really want to know the 'ex-tin-u-ating' circumstances"—she mimicked Joker's pronunciation—"then I suggest you turn to Channel 22 on your nearest television."

Chance stayed on the line. Bane watched her crawl out of bed, wrapped a robe around her naked body, and quickly turned on the television, tossing the channels repeatedly until she reached her destination. Chance held the phone to her ear, but turned to Bane.

"I've been gone for two days, and this is what happens to Gotham!" Chance said to him incredulously.

"Whatever happens at this point," said Bane, indicating the screen carelessly, "is on your head. You knew the repercussions of your actions once you put Ace on the front lines."

Bane's voice was not exactly civil, nor was it quiet. Ace laughed slightly in Chance's ear.

"Is Bane there? Give him my kisses, hm?"

"Not now, Ace," said Chance irritably. "What have you done to my city?"

"Your city? It's Joker's playground." Ace scoffed. "Have you turned on your TV?"

"Yes. I'm watching now."

"Wait for it..."

A _Breaking News_ banner flew over the top of the television screen. Chance watched with narrowed eyes as reporters gathered around a podium: a conference before a band of survived cops, locals, students, and in the line of celebrities, Chance recognized the handsome face of Bruce Wayne. Harvey Dent stood at the podium.

In a mutter, Chance said,

"What the hell is this, Ace?"

"Trying to calm the public," said Ace with dislike.

Harvey dent spoke aloud,

"I've called this meeting for two reasons. I want to assure the citizens of Gotham that everything is being done about Joker's killings. Secondly, the Batman has offered to turn himself in—"

The crowd before him reacted; Chance's eyes widened.

"What the hell is he doing?" said Chance, watching Harvey.

"Maybe he is crazy," sighed Ace.

Harvey pressed forward,

"But first. Let's consider the situation: Should we give in to the terrorist's demands?"

"If the people of Gotham did that," said Chance as an awkward side note, "Crane would be owning this city..."

A reporter interrupted Dent,

"You'd rather protect the vigilante rather than the lives of the Gotham City?"

The crowd noisily assented, but Harvey calmly motioned for quiet.

"The Batman _is_ an outlaw..." Dent said. "But that's not why we're turning him in. We're doing this because we're scared. We've been happy to have Batman clean up our streets before now."

"But things are worse than ever!" called a local.

"No shit," said Ace in Chance's ear. "Harvey's still alive..."

"Shh," Chance hissed.

Harvey bent over the podium, impassioned.

"_Yes, _they are. But _the night is darkest just before the dawn._ And I promise you that the dawn is coming."

The crowd riled,

"No more dead cops!"

"Batman will face the law, but he will face _us,_ not this madman!" said Dent over the crowd, but they had already taken the chant,

"No more dead cops!"

Chance watched Dent's face fall. He lost them. Chance sighed.

Dent nodded.

"Very well, then. Take the Batman into custody."

Chance shook his head, "Don't do anything stupid..."

Hungry eyes scanned the room. Chance watched Bruce Wayne look around at the crowd. Chance saw him shift just so slightly, but then Dent stood up,

"I am the Batman."

Ace whispered,

"Too late."

Chance watched the officers take Harvey Dent into handcuffs. Chance made a frustrated groan,

"What the hell is he _doing?_"

"Ease up, sweetie," said Ace passively, "it'll fall into plan."

"You're fucking up the system I've set in that city, Ace!" Chance said, rising to her feet from the television.

"Then if it bothers you that we're running rogue, why don't you just come back?" said Ace.

"It was _your_ idea that I'd leave!" Chance roared into the receiver.

"Then don't take my ideas, I'm just suggesting it." Ace said with little less.

Chance sighed angrily and hung up on Ace.

Her small vacation was over. It was time to head back.


	82. The Return Home

The City in Pieces

Chapter Eighty-Two: The Return Home

Chance dressed in the cover of the night. There was an open window for Ace to make more trouble in the darker times of the hour, and it wasn't frivolous to deal with the uprise in Gotham while lingering in Bulgaria. Chance considered the matter of requesting that Bane would come with her, due to the fact that she didn't understand exactly what he was doing this entire time in Bulgaria. Pavel had already cooperated with the building bomb operation, so there was no underlying reason why Bane had to remain on the other side of the world.

Chance pulled on her black boots and turned her head over her left shoulder, looking at her lover. She met his eyes. He had been watching her dress in her military fatigues. Her long hair fell over her shoulders in a silky, yellow curtain; he slipped his fingers beyond the nape of her neck and tossed her straying locks off her back. Chance smiled sweetly at him, raising her hands to her head; with a tight scrunchie around her pointed fingers, she wrapped her hair into a tight bun. Bane gazed at her from his position on his side of the bed. Chance sighed, feeling down.

"I don't want to leave this place," said Chance dreamily, crawling on the bed to sit beside him. His naked arm wrapped around her shoulders; she set her head on his chest. "Admit it, Bane. You miss me when I'm gone."

"Your company serves better than that of those men outside," he said in his deep voice. "But all good things must come to an end." He patted her back and gestured for to head for the door.

Chance sighed and slipped off the bed. Before she approached the exit, she stopped momentarily, considered the concept, then turned to him.

"Why do you want to remain here, Bane? There's nothing more to do then to languish in a beautiful city," said Chance when he cocked his head slightly. "Pavel did what was asked of him. We move on."

"Recruitment." Bane answered.

"Has that been successful?" asked Chance curiously, hoping to last their time together.

"It's a working process as any," said Bane. "We'll reconvene another day. For now, you must return to Gotham."

Chance bit the inside of her cheek.

"How do you restrain yourself, Bane?" she said gently. "How do you get the strength to let go?"

Bane stared at her.

"I know there is a schedule that we must keep." Bane said honestly. "Lounging with me in our quarters, however satisfactory it might be for us, will not move the plans forward. Of course, strength has always been your cup of tea, as it were."

"In heart, perhaps," muttered Chance. She made a face. "I can stand some pain in the end, don't you think?"

"Pain is only physical," said Bane critically, observing her expressions.

Chance gave a small smile.

"Well..." she set a hand on the door knob and turned it. "I'm off."

"When you get back to Gotham," said Bane, "be careful."

"Always," said Chance with a lighter smile. She opened the door, and once more, Chance had to leave her precious love behind to amass the more risky dangers ahead of her. She hoped to God that Ace had at least some idea of what _extinuating circumstances_ had ocurred since that assault on the mayor.

When Chance reached Gotham's port, she was surprised to see Ace sitting by the dock, leaning against one of the tie-off posts, smirking at her. Ace might have been pleasant, delighted to see her, but Chance felt something else cram into her stomach. Chance's reverie from the light has stiffened, and she had enough time to stew about it. A fellow agent of shadow passed Ace quietly, avoiding her gaze, lugging Chance's suitcase over his back willingly. When Ace smiled at him, he didn't even acknowledge her presence. Chance was in Ace's face immediately. She took Ace by her shoulders and shoved her. Ace, taken aback by her friend's intrusion, had just enough reflex to take support from the nearby post, clinging to it, only minutes away from falling into the ocean. Chance's eyes were blazing.

"What's up with you?" said Ace, suddenly irritated.

"Get over here." Chance ordered.

Ace followed her to a shadowed area where they wouldn't be overheard.

"What's _wrong_ with you?" said Ace, staring at Chance incredulously. "You nearly pitched me off the deck—"

"Which is less than what you really deserve," growled Chance, staring at her.

Ace returned the look,

"_What_ are you talking about?"

"How could you fucking shoot the Lieutenant instead of the mayor, Ace?"

"Well, for one, _I_ didn't shoot him: Joker did, and it wasn't like we were aiming for Gordon." Ace shook her head. "He got in the way."

"'He got in the way'," Chance repeated in a scoff. "Dogs get in the way. Cats get in the way. Little flies that hang around your food get in the way."

"I don't see the problem, Chance. Gordonwas an asset; he was going to cause us problems in the end, anyway. We would have to whack him in the long run." Chance said nothing, but started to pace to and fro. Ace continued, "It's one less step than we have to do later."

"And Dent? They're transferring him where?" said Chance irritably.

"Where they take all the other criminals," retorted Ace bitingly.

Chance caught the tone. She gave Ace an apologetic glance. Ace looked reproachful. Perhaps the lunatic had been expecting some congratulatory overtones for the ruckus that had happened in Gotham. In Ace's world, having the world turned upside down would seem like accomplishment, especially if it took only two days to do it. Bane wouldn't have considered the notion as an accomplishment. Chance, though, had to give credit where it was due.

The momentary silence between them settled the score. Ace accepted Chance's quiet apology, pushing forward.

"He's going to County lock-up," clarified Ace seriously. "Though, if anything, the people might love him for it. Though it sort of mixes up a few things, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, before you transformed Harvey, Batman was still a problem. He's not two people. He's not three people." Ace shook her head with a smile. "Come on, Chance. He's not Batman. Besides, if he was Batman, don't you think we'd have caught on by now?"

Chance bit the inside of her cheek. Fair point.

"The people love him anyway," shrugged Chance. "When are they moving him?"

Ace checked her watch. "In a few hours. We already have something set up."

Chance gave her a patient look.

"A set up?"

"No, not a _set_ up. Something set _up._ You know, a gig. A plan. A scheme." Ace smirked at Chance. "We have something set up...already. It's going to be carried out."

"What's going to be carried out?"

"The plan."

"But something is going to be taken out of Gotham?"

"No." Ace said. "No one—Nothing is leaving Gotham. The plan is being carried out. Like put forth...in...motion—Chance, are you feeling all right?"

"I'm tired," said Chance.

"We're all tired." Ace said with a little smirk in the corner of her mouth.

Chance shrugged her shoulders.

"This seems too easy." Chance muttered, tapping her fingers on her forearm. "Harvey's probably expecting Joker and his goons to target him, and Batman will actually rescue him. That would clear his name and clear Batman's name."

"You really think Harvey's that clever?"

"He's put some of the most dangerous men away in jail, Ace. I don't even doubt it."

Ace checked her watch.

"Well, we better get going. I'd hate to miss the fun."

Ace teetered away from Chance to head toward the warehouse. Chance sighed, defeated.

"I'm getting too old for this shit."


	83. Come on Hit Me!

Author's Note:_ Sorry for the wait. Working the night shift makes it hard to get up in the evening and write. Have to stay focused for this sort of thing. Anyway, thank you all for the reviews thus far. I know there are a lot of scenes with Ace and Chance, and Bane is flecked across the pages. I want to make all readers happy. Ace lovers, your fondness for her will surely increase. Chance fans, you won't be disappointed. Joker wenches, you're sure to get a kick out of this anyway. Bane's girls, hold on for a little longer. And all those readers, guests or followers, enjoy this chapter. :)_

The City in Pieces

Chapter Eighty-Three: Come On, Hit Me

Chance had long anticipated that Harvey Dent's life was sure to be in mortal danger. Surely, hell was to be paid, for Dent had confessed to the public, per se to Joker, that he was _the _Batman. Chance, knowing that the true caped crusador was a boy billionaire rather than a district attorney, could understand Dent's underlying scheme to confessing to such a delicate subject. Chance had actually anticipated that Joker would have something specially made for this type of situation, and it was by no surprise to her when Joker waved her to an open garage and handed her a large rocket launcher.

"I'm assuming that this isn't a tool to make fireworks," said Chance with a bored look. She was no stranger to such heat. Bane might as well had given her the entire armada. Chance dismantled the weapon with ease; Joker glanced at her. "You're not using this in public."

"Of course, I am," said Joker with a chuckle. "That's how we're going to blow up the transfer vehicle."

"So you've just decided this, then?" said Chance cynically.

Ace came around from the corner of the garage.

"I don't know why you're so snippy to him, Chance. It's just a joke," said Ace with a smile.

Joker only smirked at her. When he walked to the other side of the building, Chance turned to Ace, and said slyly,

"You won't be laughing when he does it to you."

Ace shrugged.

"He won't turn me away."

"He's a genius, Ace, but he's still a man," said Chance out of the corner of her mouth. She strode past Ace, who stared at her incredulously, mouth agape.

Chance was surprised to feel Ace's hand on her shoulder, and she pulled. Chance turned around to see an enraged porcelain face staring at her through angered blue eyes.

"You don't talk about him that way. Never again." Ace said darkly.

"If someone were to tell you that he was cheating on you, I'd pity the poor woman who must face you," said Chance, admiring Ace's temper.

Ace dismissed her, but relaxed. She dismantled.

"Come on," she sighed, beckoning Chance in Joker's direction. "We better get going. They're moving Dent to County. Once they cross the streets, Dent's not the FBI's job anymore. They're moving in a federal convoy," continued Ace as Chance followed her out of the garage. "There'll be quite a few. They want to avoid getting caught. It's a simple strategy."

"I already know this," assured Chance. To Ace's look of condescension, Chance continued. "I lived with a tactician for six years, Ace."

"Hm, sure. All right," said Ace sweetly. She handed Chance loaded weapons. "Joker wants to do the deed himself. But should you face some danger yourself..."

"Right." Chance muttered.

"We've got a truck from this _Laffy's Theatre,_" said Ace, walking Chance to the back of the garage.

Chance raised an eyebrow at the large semi. The side of the truck originally read "_Laughter is the best medicine"._ However, someone got cute, and they slid a red-painted 'S', and morbidly read "_S_laughter"_. _Ace chuckled slightly. She turned to Chance, who was still gazing at it.

"Isn't that funny?"

"Hi_larious_." Chance retorted. Bane didn't play with people; he simply just did what he was set out to do. Joker might as well have been the child with a magnifying glass, burning ants. Chance turned to Ace.

"Of course, Batman'll be there as well," said Ace with a shrug. "It's a guaranteed."

"Casualty rate?" asked Chance curiously.

Ace gave her a look of exhaustion and slight amusement. "Of course, people are going to _die._ I mean, it's like a war."

Joker was in the semi-truck, loading up weapons into the empty cargo hold. He slid open the side. Joker set his hands on either side of the frame, watching the two women chit chat. Wind starting to catch up to them. The slight breeze flicked his tie from his purple suit. He wore matching gloves. Chance observed him. Physically, she could see the attraction between he and Ace. But his mind was just—Chance imagined a volcano erupting.

_Yep, that's a good way to put it,_ Chance said in afterthought.

"Are the hens done clucking?" he said, indicating the remaining weaponry still lying in crates.

"Sorry, sweetie," said Ace from beside Chance. She tottered toward him like an obedient poodle and sauntered to him, handing the crates to Joker. The assembly line was small, but it looked like the two of them could handle it.

Chance crossed the land to glance into the driver's seat of the truck. It was one of Joker's men; she knew this only because Chance didn't recognize him. She returned to the side, where Joker finished stacking the crates neatly. He gave him a gentle pat before turning his dark eyes to Chance.

She crossed her arms.

"Now let me just ask you this one question, Joker."

"Are you sure there's just one," he muttered. Chance watched him jump off the daunting edge of the truck's open threshold. He landed in front of her. "Because," he finished, "you ask quite a few, so many—that you could be the Riddler, but that's not possible. You can't pull off green."

Chance ignored him.

"With a few cars and a couple of bullets, exactly how do you intend to keep law enforcement off your back?" said Chance seriously.

"We block their path. They'll go down run road. We'll go in circles. It'll be great," assured Joker. He patted her shoulder a tad rougher than needed. Chance brushed it off. She followed his retreating back.

"This isn't Nascar. You can't fling this stuff around so easily. People—" Chance interrupted herself when Joker stopped walking and he turned to her. She backed up slightly. He said nothing. So she continued, "People have been given capital punishment for going through these plans willy-nilly. Batman's not going to let you go."

"Well, he certainly not going to kill me. If he were that fun, he'd have done it a long time ago. Especially dealing with you all these years. He'd have killed you a _long_ time ago." Joker smiled. "And if we get caught, it's all right anyway. It's part of the plan."

"But you said that you don't make plans." Chance said.

"I don't make _bad_ plans." Joker corrected her, holding up a finger.

"Any plan that you have is a _bad_ plan," Chance taunted, uncrossing her arms.

"Then it's a curious thing why all of them are succeeding, and you're still waiting for yours to kick in." Joker retorted. "I don't go into a plan without knowing all the fine print. That's what gets you into trouble. I look at all the pieces of the puzzle. And for the pieces that are missing, I simply make my own and stick 'em where the sun '_don't shine'_," Joker mocked a country accent. His voice returned to normal. "For once, just go with the flow. Live precariously. On the edge, as the proverbial expression goes."

Ace appeared behind his shoulder.

"And for the sake of the trick candles that spoiled children get in their cakes," said Joker, "laugh when it seems that you should frown." He gave her a marvelous grin. She stared at him. "Hm, not a happy face, are you?" He shrugged. "Oh, well. Let's move out."

_Night fell._ Ace had left for private business, though as Joker boarded the Slaughter truck, Ace still hadn't returned. Chance considered questioning her location, but when the clown showed no curiosity in the matter, she didn't bother to ask. Chance waited in the back, carrying heavy artillery on her person. She was sitting amongst the cargo hold, along with several masked goons. The darkness in the truck was penetrated by the lights outside on the intersection, heavy traffic amass. For Gotham to be a quiet night city, the people were out and about. Not a problem. Joker wanted an audience. After all, that was the reason why he kept Ace around. Someone had to laugh with him. Chance watched Joker settle in the floor boards with a large shotgun.

When the driver honked the horn, an officer approached the truck.

"Sir, you have to wait your turn like—"

Poor rookie didn't even finish his sentence when Joker leaped up from his hiding place and shot the officer square in the forehead. Chance had glanced over the driver's seat. She raised an eyebrow.

_How direct._

Joker's men had closed off the exits. One was a firefighters truck, engulfed in flames. The hilarious pun was intended. Chance had to chuckle a little bit when she understood the joke. When she did, Joker had glanced at her curiously.

Above them, helicopters flew. The familiar vibration of the atmosphere gave wind to that.

Chance automatically knew that wherever the helicopter was flying overhead, it obviously was making sure that Harvey Dent arrived at his destination unharmed. Foolishly, they would follow their subject with a blearing spot light in the middle of the night. Joker directed the driven semi truck to Lower Fifth and West Chivet, an exit ramp to a subway, or in this case: a barrel for the FBI. Chance rose to her feet and gained some balance. From within the truck, peering out of the windshield, Chance saw an array of cop cars all around them, though she automatically spot Harvey's convoy.

"They just never learn." Chance muttered. Her eyes darted up to the helicopter. Its search light glowed brightly in the night.

Then the helicopter disappeared as the semi truck disappeared below into the subterreanan streets. Subways were much lower. Chance could nail the location of the homeless to these areas. Irreparably damaged lives would be lost. Chance glanced ahead to see that they were right on top of the boxed cars of Dent's convey.

"Faster." Joker said.

The driver sped forward. The speed enticed the truck to casually side-swipe the rear vehicles of the convoy—Chance watched the cop cars speed off out of sight. Chance heard two separate crash collisions. The men behind her whooped slightly. Chance glanced at Joker, though he was staring straight ahead.

"Hit them." Joker said calmly.

"We'll—" began the driver in protest, but Joker demanded,

"I said _hit them!"_

Joker's man didn't argue the point. He floored the gas pedal with every intent to carry out Joker's demand. Chance was knocked off her feet when the front of the semi hit Dent's car and it pushed it forward. The lanes divided. Chance went to her feet.

"You don't know what you're doing, do you?" she said roughly, watching Joker crawl out of the passenger seat.

"Don't be foolish, Chance." Joker said. He patted her cheek swiftly. "Enjoy the view."

Chance watched him go to the side of the truck. She looked out the window to see that Dent's car was only a few feet away. The speedometer was heating to 80 mph. Chance glanced back over her shoulder to see that Joker was pulled the side door. He gestured for the men to hand him weapons. She stared at him.

"You're going to shoot heavy artillery when pillars are in between you and Dent's car _while_ under Gotham's traffic lanes?" said Chance increduluosly.

"We all have goals." Joker said casually.

"You're making a mistake."

"You worry too much." Joker waved her off. "Just hand me that gun."

"Why don't you just throw a grenade while you're at it?"

"All right," he said, retrieving a black grenade launcher from his jacket. With one pump, and in a minute, an explosion roared behind them. The force of the hit shook the truck. Chance stared at him. He looked at her. "Now hand me the damn gun, or I'm throwing _you_ out of the truck."

Chance gave him a callous look, but she tossed him a loaded MP4. He let that one loose. The bullets collided into a heavily armored car. The bullets met their intended, but they didn't even kiss the hard metal.

Joker shot off the rounds and tossed away the empty barrel. His men handed him a second gun. But before he could use it, something distracted him. Fascinated, he peered off away from Dent's convoy. Chance leaned her head out of the side of truck to watch what she only knew was Bruce Wayne coming to save another politican. Scoffing, Chance watched the Batmobile plow into a second truck, which held more of Joker's men. Flames engulfed it as the truck disintegerated. Joker's eyebrows raised, amused.

Chance watched the Batmobile rejoin the pursuit. The men at Joker's back reloaded the machine guns quickly.

"He's quite the stunstman, isn't he?" said Chance, impressed.

The Batmobile screamed onto the street, coming after them. Chance looked at Joker to see his expression, but her face dropped when she saw him arming himself with a loaded rocket launcher. He aimed the device at Harvey Dent's truck. Chance watched him pull the trigger. For sure, she thought that Dent was finished, until Batman's armored car jumped between Dent's vehicle and his demise. The projectile annhilated the Batmobile, spinning it in flames. From the engulfed car, flying debris shatted the windshield beside Chance; the driver's head was impaled by a license plate. Blood spattered around the driver's window. She didn't react when some of it ended up on her. She wiped it off. Joker cackled delightfully as the driver fell off the seat.

Giggling like a little kid, Joker jumped away from his spot on the side and took the wheel. Chance pulled away the corpse, flinging the deceased man out of the truck. The dead body landed on somebody's windshield.

In hot pursuit, Joker drove the mad semi truck out of the tunnels and onto a low streetway.

Chance crawled through the truck to settle in the empty passenger seat. From this view, she could see a sea of cop cars around them.

"Oh, yes, this is going according to your plan..." Chance muttered scornfully.

"Do you realize that most of the time," said Joker, jerking the wheel, "that I don't listen to you? I just watch your jaw go up and down." When Chance gave him a cold look, she simply smiled. He held a radio in his hand. "Okay. Rack 'em up. Rack 'em up."

Racing down the road, Chance looks up just in time to see recognizable clown goons on fire escapes. Cables go flying through the air, ending up on either side of the apartment buildings. Chance watches with honest awe as a helicopter pitches itself into the web. The helpless flyer catapults into the street, exploding into a roaring fire.

"Oh, looks who's back..." Chance said with a slight smile.

Joker looked into his rear view mirror. From the cloud of fire, the Batman emerged, riding on what could be called was a Bat-Pod.

"His car can repair itself into a motorcycle," muttered Chance. "Go figure."

Batman raced toward them. Chance watched with fascination as Batman's pod lowered. At first she was sure he would hit them with all force. Instead, he drove underneath the truck and passed them. Joker watched him through the window.

"This is taking fucking forever," Chance said blatantly.

"Maybe you should have killed him your—"

Joker and Chance gasped. It was as if gravity had decided to block them from its network. The semi truck tossed itself upward into the air. Chance held on for dear life as the entire semi truck flipped onto its back. She squealed as it ripped down the street, sending red sparks through the wind shield. Joker was laughing.

It stopped moving. A searing pain hit Chance in the knee. She watched Joker crawl out of the wreckage, falling from the driver's seat. Chance lowered herself leniently from the cramped corner of the floor mat. Of course, she was bleeding. She tried moving. To no avail, it hurt too much. Chance watched Batman fly through the street on his motocycle. Joker had taken up a machine gun and started raining the bullets onto passing cars.

_Fucking insane,_ Chance thought as she watched him.

Joker held out his arms toward Batman.

"Come on. Come on. Hit me. I want you to do it."

Batman raced in a straight line, targeting him.

"I want you to do it." Joker said aloud. "Hit me. Come on. _Hit me!_"

Chance winced as Batman dumped his bike to the pavement rather than smashing into Joker. Batman skidded toward the truck on his back, ending up in front of Chance, who was still stuck halfway in the truck. Police cars sirened behind them. Joker skipped back to the truck, flicking out a knife.

Joker bent down beside Batman with an open blade. He reached for him. Then—

"Drop it."

A gun was pressed against the back of Joker's neck. Chance looked around. The cars reached them. And they surrounded Chance with loaded firearms. Half of the Major Crimes Unit aimed at Joker, the other half concentrated their red-eye lasers on Chance's forehead. She glanced at Joker who uttered a frustrated groan.

"Could you please just give me a second—?"

The gun cocked. He was pushed onto his back. Joker yielded the weapon. Chance raised her eyes to see the man who stopped Joker. She met his eyes and he met hers. Gordon. Her eyes must have said it all, for he looked at her upon recognition.

"We've been wondering where you were," said Gordon, looking at her.

Chance stared at him.

The last time that she had seen him, Harvey Dent (as Two-Face) had tried becoming good, reuniting with his wife, Grace. Apparently that went out the window. Harvey had turned she, Ace, and Joker into the police: told him the coordinates of their hide-out and confessed to all crimes. Two-Face had been responsible for Ace and Joker's imprisonment in Arkham, and also, was the reason why Chance had left them all together. Gordon had been there at the scene. And he had attempted to convince her to relinquish her ideas. She refused and saved Dent anyway.

Chance stared up at Gordon's face. Had she known that Harvey would be one of the people that needed to be killed, Chance would have taken the opportunity to put two in his forehead.

"Take them into custody."

Chance's arms were ceased by the uniformed officers. When they pulled her, she uttered a violent scream. Gordon flinched. Batman rose to his feet. Chance watched the masked Bruce Wayne approach the truck, observed her situation, and turned to Gordon. They spoke quickly.

Gordon looked at Batman, then Harvey Dent appeared by Gordon's side.

"You're alive." Harvey said gladly.

Chance looked up at Dent, who met eyes with her. She could tell that he had no recollection of her. In some ways, she was happy about that.

It took thirty minutes to cut Chance out of the truck. When her leg was free, she was bandaged, and they hauled she and Joker off to MCU for interrogation. Though Chance wondered how they were going to get out of the mess, she still probed.

Where was Ace?


	84. Seized and Captured

Author's Note and Disclaimer: I want to thank u/2151898/Alya-Kihaku for giving the idea about the holding cell idea. As usual, enjoy this chapter. :)

The City in Pieces

Chapter Eighty-Four: Seized and Captured

Harvey Bullock, bless his heart, had always been one of those cops who would hold a grudge against these criminals that roamed Gotham, should a few of them outsmart him in any way. Though he had known the Joker to be quite a clever monster, he was as naïve as to how the Joker was acting these days. Harvey Bullock put a long haul into his career into law enforcement, and although he had no jibes toward the Joker, who would always imitate him should he become furious, Harvey Bullock felt particularly vindictive toward the captured Chance Bremly. Harvey Bullock's last encounter with the highly evolved tactician had been a messy one; she had nearly killed him, but then again, she nearly killed everyone. Though Bullock's life had always been spared, since Ace was always the trigger man.

Bullock's experience in criminals had been credited to his hunting sprees with Chance and Ace. They had given him his credit in enforcement to make him a great cop: he had chased them in pursuits, and although he had arrested them, neither Chance nor Ace had ever actually ended up in a jail cell. But tonight, Bullock was triumphant as he locked Chance's hands behind her back in hand cuffs.

Chance grimaced at him when he jiggled her wrists together, the apparent noise of the chains egging at her self-eestem. She considered turning on her direct line to Bane, but hesitated. They would find her ear piece, and Bane wouldn't react so mercily if he discovered that she had been arrested. Chance merely stared into Bullock's face. He indicated her wounded knee.

"Hurt, are ya? What a pity." His voice was callous and false. He set his fingers on her shoulder. "Too bad your pal, Ace, isn't here. She'd have made a good collection."

"She'd have killed you by now if she was," said Chance in a deep voice.

Harvey Bullock didn't much care for her remark. So he did what any grudgeful cop would do. Joker watched with a look of split concern and amusement as Bullock raised a shoe and kicked Chance hard in her bandaged shin. When she cried out in obvious agony, sent to her knees by the sudden pain, she squealed slightly when her laceration made contact with the cold pavement. Gordon, who had been shackling Joker's arms, turned quickly to see what had given the captive female such urgency to cry. Bullock raised Chance to her feet ruthlessly; he took a handful of her blonde hair and pulled her locks, her pretty face jerked back to look him straight in the eye.

"You'll pay for you misgivings." Bullock said.

"Eat shit and die," Chance hissed. She spit into his face. Bullock turned away, disgusted. Joker chuckled maniacally. Gordon pushed the restrained clown into the arms of waiting officers. They took Joker into an FBI holding van. He didn't give them a hard time. Chance watched him be hoisted into the hold. Gordon sealed the few feet between he and Bullock, taking his fellow officer's hand off Chance's head.

"Don't do anything stupid, Bullock." Gordon warned. "The last time we threatened Chance, we thought Ace was no where nearby. Chance may not give us any problems. But Ace. She'll be lurking somewhere."

"But Ace isn't here."

"She's Joker's girl," said Gordon. Those brown eyes behind the black spectacles darted through the street, through the apartment windows, across the city lights, to the semi truck wreckage, and then fell into Chance's blue eyes. He said in a gentle voice, "Ace is somewhere. Just not at the moment."

"Why don't we just kill Chance and get that other bitch?"

Gordon shook his head. His eyes remained on Chance, whose own bored into his meaningfully.

_That's right. Take the hint, Lieutenant._

Gordon took Chance's right arm and started to lead her to the van. Bullock followed behind them.

"I can't kill you." Gordon told her. "You've been gone for quite a while." He glanced at Bullock. "It would spark some kind of interest to the boss that she's been serving should she never return."

Chance was eased into the same compartment as Joker. Joker's eyes glanced at her swiftly before returning to stare straight ahead.

"Take them to the MCU." Gordon ordered the driver. "Don't stop for anything or anyone. Got it?"

"Right, Sir," said the driver.

When Gordon closed the doors, he gave Chance one more look. When the truck started moving, Chance automatically turned to Joker.

"You've got a back-up plan, right?"

"Of course, I do." Joker said simply.

"Care to fill me in?" Chance said impatiently.

Joker held out his hands, shackled. He motioned with his wrists in a free manner.

"We have time." Joker sighed.

"Where's Ace?"

"You think I'd get into this little mess and leave her behind on purpose?" said Joker with a smile. "She's busy doing something for me."

"Doing what?" Chance said curiously.

"Picking up the pieces. Well, depending on whether the cops get into the point, then she'll really be picking up the pieces."

Chance raised an eyebrow.

"You've built a bomb?"

"No, no, no, Ace is the expert in that department." Joker said with a fondness in his voice. "She's gathering our materials, and when they're in place, we can then extract the proper—"

"I swear to God, you're the only person that talks in metaphors." Chance muttered, frustrated.

"Ah, you want the direct point. I'm still not used to working with people like that. I usually like to reel them into the story and then tell the punch line. Your form isn't even funny."

"It's not a fucking _game_."

"Not for you, but I'm thinking that it's a hoot and a half." Joker said. "Ace is using Wuertz and Ramirez to gather your friends, Harvey Dent, and Rachel Dawes to separate oil industries, rigging oil drums to explode, on two different streets, at the same time. Now, you tell me if that won't be fun!" Joker gave her a crazy grin.

"Don't you realize that these aren't just going to be cops interrogating us?"

"Well, all they want from you is to know what you've been doing for the last six years," said Joker with amusement. "Which, obviously, _you_ are not going to tell them _that,_" he annuciated the 't' strongly, "because that'd be just awful, betraying your Arabian Knight, like that."

"I've survived under torture before," said Chance strongly. "I'll last. What about you?"

"What _about_ me?" said Joker. He jiggled his hands to make his chains dance. "I'm still having fun over here. I'm not worried. You think I am? No. Worrying only makes good people turn to bad people."

"There are no good people in the world." Chance said plainly.

Joker raised an eyebrow. He leaned forward.

"Is that so?"

"Yes." Chance said firmly. "No one is ever good. They just last long enough to die a royally screwed death. Just like Harvey Dent. Just like Rachel."

"Ooh," said Joker in a mocked concerned voice, "you think they both are gonna die? That's just negative thinking."

"So optimism would say that one person dying is good."

"No, a positive person would say that it's good that one of them is going to live." Joker pointed out.

"If Ace has already done her job, why didn't she join us in the fight?"

"She's a good girl, Chance," said Joker with a slight smirk. "She come when I call."

"If you're in jail, there's no way they'll give you a phone call to her cell!" said Chance incredulously.

"I'll get my phone call." Joker said calmly. "Don't doubt so much. Anything's possible in Gotham."

The Major Crimes Unit holding cells were in Gotham Central. There were a few criminals sharing the cells with Joker and Chance, though none of them stood out to be recognized. A few could gaze at the pair of them in wonder. What it was like to be a celebrity was to be awed by fellow peers as if you were a star in the sky. It was a treasured moment for anyone, but to Chance, it only stirred worry in her mind. Bane would know that she was captured. He would know that if she never answered his calls, she would be given the sentence that she deserved like the rest of the class of criminals that she associated herself with over the years. The sentence she deserved was death. Chance knew this all along, but she never bothered with it. Had she known that working with the clown would have her up for death row, Chance would have steered clear of him. Joker wasn't worrying at all. He sat on the wooden bench, staring straight ahead, observing his cellmates with unimpressed visage. He was stripped of his purple trenchcoat and wore only his vest and under crew long sleeve shirt.

Chance had worn a very nice military fatigue, but her clothes were searched. She only wore a tucked in T-shirt and jeans. She was barefoot. Chance couldn't sit so idly as her companion. Her mind raced with anticipation. She paced the floor with her fingernails tapping her bottom lip. She glanced at the table away from them to see cops searching their gear. From Joker's coat, they withdrew several knives. From hers, they withdrew firearms. Chance's tattoo didn't go unnoticed. Bane had given it to her long ago, a symbol for the League of Shadows, but unknown to anyone else. Her shoulder showed the print so easily, though none of the cops took notes on it.

There were cops surrounding the cage like humans to a petting zoo. Several eyed her with obvious attraction and loathing, others turned their visage to Joker. A few batted their night sticks against the jail bars. When Bullock took his night stick and slammed it against the bars, Chance winced slightly, but Joker never moved. He gave Chance a look before staring straight ahead.

"Stand away! All of you!" came Gordon's voice, loud and clear above his officers' reputes. He forced the cops away from the holding cage. Chance observed him. "Don't give their mob lawyer anything to use, understand? Handle them like glass!"

Chance saw a black-haired man enter the room, sleek and thin, well-dressed, carrying an air of elegance and arrogance. Mayor Garcia walked up to Gordon and shook his hand.

"Back from the dead," the mayor said with a smile.

"I couldn't chance my family's safety." Gordon replied.

The mayor glanced to the cage, peering at Chance and Joker.

"Quite a few assets you have in there."

Chance approached the jail bars. She gave him a quirky smile.

"Were you on my wall, Mayor, you'd be a nice collection as well," she drawled in her feminine voice.

The mayor, unknowing what to make of this, ignored her.

"What do you got?" he asked Gordon.

"Nothing. No matches on DNA, dental, or prints. Looks like when Joker and Chance disappeared, the system erased its data on the two of them. We have nothing." Gordon said negatively. No names, no other alias, nothing. We know Chance is Chance Bremly, the girl who worked with her assassin, Ace," said Gordon on addition, "but no sign of her companion."

The mayor patted Gordon's shoulder.

"Go home, Gordon. Get some rest. You'll need it. Tomorrow you take the big job." Garcia smiled. "You don't have any say in the matter. _Commissioner Gordon._"

The room echoed in congratulatory applause. Chance heard clapping from behind her. She turned to see that the Joker, unrestrained, clapped repeatedly, bearing a cynical expression on his face, as he applauded Gordon's promotion. Chance raised her eyebrows at him.

Now _that_ was frightening.

Joker's men were being processed in half an hour. They were in the holding cell as well, lying on the floor sleeping. A selected man, a larger species of the human race, overweight and unclean, moaning in growing pain, clenching his overbearing torso in his hands. Joker watched the man approach the jail bars in agony. Chance followed his gaze to the man. She considered him slightly. Joker gave Chance a knowing smile, though she wasn't in on the joke.

"I don't feel good," said the fat thug.

"You're a cop killer," said Detective Stephens. "You're lucky to be feeling anything from the neck down.

Chance sat down beside Joker. She appeared calm, but inside, her stomach tore apart breaking nerves.

"You're hiding your anxiety rather well, Lieutenant," said Joker out of the corner of his mouth. He gave her a look; his dark eyes searched hers. "By the distance that you've set yourself between us, those animals outside of this cage will think we have something _special._"

She rolled her eyes.

"I'd never interest you." Chance said dismissively.

"Too right you are," said Joker, looking her up and down briefly. "You're much too brawny."

"What is your plan?" said Chance quickly, looking at him impatiently.

The cops were watching them talk.

"My plan is all about the time. By the way, what time is it?"

"It's been a while since I was able to look at a clock, Joker." Chance muttered with slight sarcasm.

"Ah, it doesn't matter." Joker shrugged. "They'll eventually get to me."

Chance sighed, agitated. Joker set his hands in his lap, twiddling his thumbs. Calm. Collected. Unafraid. She gave him a considering glance. He was so patient under the circumstances. What did he tell Ace to do if he should get caught? Unless his plan was to get caught, then it was pure genius. Chance had to understand that he was not all talk. Joker was a psychotic genius in his right mind. When she caught herself gazing at him, she turned away, though it was obvious that the cops around them had noticed her eyes.

"They think that I'm yours," said Chance under her breath.

Joker remained staring ahead.

"I know."

"I'm not."

In a humored snort, Joker retorted, "_I know._"

"Should I act like it?" said Chance in a lower voice.

"Oh, you couldn't act like Ace if you tried."

Chance turned to him with a smile.

"Is that right?" she muttered.

He met her eyes.

"Ace is quite a girl, Chance. You'd never live up to her standards."

Chance raised her eyebrows slightly.

"You really like her, don't you?"

"Like her? Who said anything about liking her? She's always there in my way. I'd drop her like America dropped the atomic bomb on the Japanese. Unfortunately, I have no assets that list a plane, a bomb, and I don't have Ace with me right now. So sadly," he gave her a coined twinkle in his eye, "I can't."

Chance snorted through her nose.

"Well, for not caring about her, you sure act like it."

"Just like you care for the counselor, _Harv_ey Den_t._" Joker muttered.

"I don't care about Dent." Chance denied softly.

Joker shook his head.

"All to the contrary, lamb chop." Joker said, staring ahead. He continued to twiddle his thumbs. "I wonder how your boyfriend would act if he should find out that you care about this man. It'd be interesting to see him actually hit you." He looked at her to see a smoldering gaze on her face. "And you'd like it."

Chance looked straight ahead.

Gordon watched her.

"And he wonders, now," said Joker, "if you really are my henchgirl."

Chance shrugged her shoulders.

"Let him think it."

Gordon gestured for Detective Murphy to bring her out of the cell.

"Come on, sweetie," said Det. Murphy, opening the cage. "Ladies first."

Chance didn't move from the seat. Joker glanced at her, slightly impressed.

"Come on, don't make this hard." Det. Murphy said, impatient.

Chance rose to her feet and stepped toward the officer. Joker watched her go. She was put into an interrogation room. Seated at a long table. There was a thick panel of glass to her right and left. She imagined that two officers could be behind there, a forensic psychiatrist, and possible a translator. Chance had watched too many shows and befriended too many crooked cops to be naïve about the mirrors in the room. When the door closed, Gordon was standing in front of her. He was calm. He was waiting. Gordon's eyes watched hers.

"Chance. You've changed a bit."

"More than you will ever know, James."


	85. Two Trolls

The City in Pieces

Chapter Eighty-Five: Two Trolls

James Gordon wasn't intimidated by any physical threat that Chance could uphold. In all retrospect, it was never Chance Bremly who threw the first punch; that profile had always belong to Ace Leswaae. He considered torture to make her speak. Whoever she was listening to these days apparently had transformed an uptight, calculating, modus operandi class criminal into a witty, patient, and overall calm dispositioned ninja. He unshackled her hands with afterthought. He gazed over her, not as a prowling, hungry man, but as an observing detective with curiosity. In her T-shirt and jeans, he saw her obvious scars that her new apparent master or masters had left on her. Though Gordon considered among his assets that Joker might have been the cause. Ace might have decided to take the high road and leave him, or perhaps he canned her before she could. After all, for the last few years that Gordon knew about the pair of them, Ace followed him around with her tongue hanging out. Much to the likeness of Harley Quinn, whose days were spent lounging in Arkham, passively drooling over a clown who left her for someone resembling her.

Gordon observed Chance's face. Nothing there but patience.

"I know that you're not working with Joker on account that you've simply enjoyed his company." Gordon stated bluntly after a long silence.

"You're right. I'm not." Chance confessed with little shame.

"Then why _are_ you here in Gotham?" asked Gordon.

"I'm not telling you that." Chance said simply, leaning back in her seat.

"I didn't think you would." Gordon sighed.

"Then why the question?"

"An opportunity of mercy." Gordon stated honestly.

"What could you possibly do to me that hasn't been done to me before?" said Chance in a forward tone. Gordon's dismissive gaze hardened into intent listening, seeing her eyes light up. She wasn't frightened. Merely offended.

"You serve a cruel master, then. It's never been like you to follow orders."

"I've changed." Chance said truthfully.

"You're a liar, a thief, a murderer, and a con artist. How could I possibly believe _that_?" said Gordon, meeting her eyes.

"Better to believe me than some wacko on the street."

"That wacko is your gal pal, Ace, right?" said Gordon, folding his arms on the table. "Where is she, Chance? Is she working with Joker or working with you again? Or perhaps none of you? Or both?"

Chance stared at him.

"I'm not saying anything to you." Chance said, straight forward.

"I'm wasting my time." Gordon said. "Perhaps the Joker _is_ your new master."

"I work him for a greater cause." Chance said clearly.

"A cause? What cause?" said Gordon, interested.

"You'll see. Eventually." Chance said with a malicious intent.

"You're toying with me."

"I'm not."

"How should I know?"

"Trust me." Chance said with a smile. "Ace is the card in Joker's hand that is up his sleeve. You can't find her, you can't catch her. Sure," said Chance with a shrug, "you've caught me. I'm merely brains in a body. But Ace. She's who you want."

Gordon gave her a look. He rose to his feet.

"You're not yanking my chain." His voice rendered hope.

Chance gave him one of her charming smiles.

"Sit, Commissioner. I know Joker's weakness."

"He has no weakness." Gordon dismissed, starting to walk away.

"He does." Chance called after him, remaining seated at the table.

Gordon turned to meet her eyes.

"He has a weakness. You won't make him fall to his knees with promises of wealth and probation." Chance told him. "Treasure isn't just silver and gold." Chance said, re-hashing Ace's turn of phrase. Gordon hesitated.

He returned to his seat and sat back down in front of her.

"What is his weakness?"

"Ace."

"I know that," said Gordon quickly.

"Ace is Joker's weakness. She loves him, and I know that he loves her back."

"He's a psychotic nut; killers have no love."

Chance gave him a deadly look.

"Joker needs Ace. She is his audience. She laughs when he kills. She cracks up with someone dies." Chance listed swiftly. "Joker wants Ace around because she laughs at his jokes. She _is_ his weakness."

"Then what's yours, I wonder." Gordon said his thought aloud, looking at her.

Chance already knew that answer, but she wasn't about to say her thought out loud.

"I have no weakness," she lied.

"You're sheer proof that every villain has an Achilles' heel, Chance." Gordon told her seriously. He rose to his feet. "And I'm running out of time." He looked at her. "Chance, you were Harvey Dent's girlfriend at a point in time, when he was running amok before he was reborn. Where would he go?"

Chance smiled at him.

"Did Dent never make it home?" she said.

When Gordon could force nothing out of Chance much more, Joker was brought into the room. Chance was forced to sit behind the window glass with a forensic psychiatrist, Gordon himself, and Officer Ramirez. Chance was shacked at the hands. She peered into the darkness. Batman was behind Joker. She saw him take his position. Hidden. Quiet. Just like a true member of the League of Shadows. If Bruce had stayed in the club, he might have been proud.

Gordon went into the room. Chance watched the scene unfold. Joker alone. She'd see what it was that everybody else saw in him when she and Ace were not around.

Joker watched Gordon sit down before him. He was shackled at the wrists. Hands on top of the table. Watching. Waiting. He was in near darkness.

"Evening. _Commissioner._"

Gordon didn't reply to the social protocol of a greeting.

"Harvey never made it home."

"Of course not." Joker replied. Chance had to appreciate the obvious tone in his voice.

"What have you done with him?" said Gordon.

Joker laughed.

"Me? I was right here," he raised his handcuffs. "Who did _you_ leave him with? _Your_ people?"

Chance glanced knowingly at Ramirez, who merely watched, a deadpan stare in her eyes.

"Assuming of course," said Joker, "that they're still _your_ people, and not _Maroni's._"

Joker gave an off look. He looked straight into Chance's eyes, then turned to Gordon.

"Does it depress you, Lieutenant, that know how alone you are?" Joker watched Gordon's eyes flick to the mounted camera.

Chance turned to the left to see monitors. Joker looked at her through the camera.

"Do you feel responsible for Harvey Dent's current predicament?"

"Where is he?" Gordon said, ignoring his last questions.

"What's the time?" asked Joker.

"Why does it matter?" said Gordon curiously.

"Depending on the time, he might be in one spot," said Joker, then he smiled, "or in _several._"

To Chance's medium surprise, Gordon unlocked his handcuffs.

"If this is how the game is going to play out, I'm going to need a cup of coffee."

"Ooh," said Joker, amused, "the good cop, bad cop routine?" he clicked his tongue.

Gordon walked over to the door, paused,

"Not exactly."

Chance watched Gordon appear by Chance's side.

As Chance anticipated, the lights flew on, and Batman took Joker's head, slamming it on the table. Chance winced slightly. Bruce Wayne was a whole different person without the suit and tie. Joker, once he regained composure, groaned slightly, then looked at Batman with fascination, bleeding.

"Never start with the head. Victim gets all fuzzy and he can't feel the next—"

Batman slammed his elbow onto Joker's outstretched hand, though Joker didn't even react. He waited a few seconds, then gave Batman a look, proving his point. Batman sat in front of Joker. Chance was actually surprised that he_ sat _down for this. Interested and intrigued, Chance watched from behind the mirrored glass, knowing all too well that if Ace was watching, she'd have been rolling in bed by now, imminently aroused.

"I wanted to see what you would do. And you didn't disappoint. You let _five_ people die. Even to a guy like me that's cold."

Chance listened to Joker's explanation of morality and the code of ethics, Batman's importance to Gotham and how much he actually meant to the city. Joker was right throughout the whole conversation, and although all that he did was talk to Batman, Batman seemed to grow more irritated. It elevated to the fact that when Joker rejected the idea of himself being a monster, Batman roused in himself a deeper resentment. Chance didn't feel safe behind the glass until Batman took Joker roughly by the throat of his shirt and slammed the clown against the wall.

"Where's Dent?" growled Batman.

Chance watched, intrigued.

"You have these rules, and you think they'll save you."

"I have only one rule."

"Then that's the one that you'll have to break. To know the truth."

Chance watched Joker. So calm.

"Which is?" said Batman carefully.

"The only way to live in this world is without rules. And tonight, you're going to break your one rule."

Batman leaned into Joker's face.

"I'm considering it."

Joker gave him a relishing smile.

"The clock's ticking. Time waits for no one. You'll have to play my little game if you want to save..._one_ of them."

"_Them?_" Batman said pointedly.

Chance nodded. _There you go, Wayne. Figure it out._

"For a moment there," said Joker honestly, "I thought that you really were Dent. The way you threw yourself after her—"

Chance backed up when Batman thew Joker onto the table. Gordon raced out of the room. Chance glanced at Ramirez. Her brown eyes met Chance's blue ones.

"An order from Maroni." Ramirez muttered. She raised a key to Chance's eyes. She glanced reluctantly at Batman, who tore off a bolted chair and shoved it up against the locked doorknob of the interrogation unit. Gordon wouldn't be able to get in. Chance watched Ramirez, fascinated, as she raised Chance's hands in her own and unlocked Chance's shackles. Ramirez handed the key to Chance.

"Keep your hands together." Ramirez advised Chance.

More commotion from the interrogation unit beckoned Chance and Ramirez's eyes to the window. Batman was beating Joker. Joker was bleeding from the mouth and nose. Batman took up Joker's body and hurled him into the glass. It spidered. Chance winced, watching Joker become the human punching bag of Bruce Wayne's rage.

"Oh," Joker laughed, "look at you go! Does Harvey know about you and his little bunny—?"

Joker was smashed into a wall. Batman stood over him, a man possessed.

"Where are they?" Batman roared. "Where are they?"

"Killing is making a choice." Joker interjected.

"Where are they?"

Batman punched him the face. Chance stared. _Damn, Bruce,_ Chance thought to herself.

But Joker was loving every minute of it. Feeding off Batman's anger.

"You choose," said Joker, "one life over the other: your friend, the district attorney, or his blushing bride-to-be." Joker erupted into hysterical laughter.

Batman thrashed him. Joker laughed loudly.

"You have _nothing. _Nothing to threaten me with. Nothing to do with all your strength."

Batman reached for him and slammed against the wall with some finality.

"Don't worry. I'm going to tell you where they are. Both of them. And that's the point. You'll have to choose." Batman stared at him. Joker continued, "_She's_ at 250-52nd Boulevard and _she's_ at Avenue X in Cicero."

In an instant, Batman raced off after Rachel. Gordon went after Dent. Detective Stephens was left to watch after Chance and Joker. He brought her into the same room with him. Chance took a seat by Joker, who was grinning at her. Chance met his face with a smile of her own. Stephens stared at the pair with uneasiness, though he guarded the door with utmost certainty.

A few minutes passed. Chance was smiling at Stephens.

"What are you looking at, girl?" he said seriously.

"The last time that I saw you," said Chance, "not counting a few hours ago, I believe Ace and I had some fun with your family a few years back."

He gave her a look.

"You both are fucking crazy."

Chance smile endearingly.

"_Ace_ is crazy." Chance said honestly.

"Ace is not here. We caught _you_." Stephens said strongly.

"Ace is still out there, you know," sighed Chance, staring amass, away from him. "Lounging in the streets, probably swimming in more gold than your career warrants, I bet. Ace is very much a hoarder when it comes to possessions," lied Chance serenely. "She keeps all her trophies. Has a few letters from past boyfriends. Keeps the leftovers from her meals that she's eaten. Or _killed," _added Chance with the delicate touch. From this, Stephens slightly winced.

"She's not unlike the serial killers that you see from the movies, Officer." Chance continued, inventing the tall tale as much as she could. "She loves to skin the body first. When they're dead, it's not fun. Alive, they writhe under her beautiful hands. She doesn't know how to use a scalpel," said Chance, continuing to smile at him. "So she cuts away whatever she wants. Jagged edges slice the flesh so unevenly. So brutally. She isn't gentle, you know."

Stephens glanced at her. Chance and Ace had fun with his brother about fifteen years ago. His brother was killed at a burglary. Ace had harmed Stephens' brother so much, they had to have a closed casket. The memory of his dead brother irked him so. And Chance could see it. Stephens didn't fear Chance. But she could tell that he feared Ace. Ace frightened him. She knew it.

"And when she's peeled the skin," said Chance delicately, "Ace admires her work."

Joker listened to her invention with interest.

"Poor girl has the attention span of a two-year-old," sighed Chance fondly. "She'll grow tired of skinning and goes to a different torture..."

"I don't want to hear anymore of this." Detective Stephens said dangerously.

"I've touched a nerve." Chance muttered.

"Be _quiet._"

"All right." Chance shrugged.

A few minutes of silence crept by. Joker looked at Stephens, calm, serene.

"How many," asked Joker curiously, "of your friends...have I _killed_?"

Chance could tell that Stephens was getting mighty irritated.

"I'm a twenty year man." Stephens stated. "I can tell the difference between punks and freaks like you. And you've killed six of my friends."

Chance watched Joker mouth the word 'six' with a smile on his face.

_Troll, _thought Chance.

Joker continued.

"Do you know why I use a knife?"

Stephens inhaled, trying to keep his cool. The scene was rather amusing.

"Guns are too quick. You can't savor all the little emotions. See," said Joker, as if the detective wanted an explanation, "in their last moments of life, people show who they really are."

Chance could tell that Stephens was trying very_ hard_ to ignore him. It wasn't working.

"So," said Joker, content, "in a way, I knew that you never did."

Stephens closed his eyes. Patience was a virtue that he was slowly loosing.

"Would you," said Joker in a sweet offer, "would you like to know which of them were cowards?"

Chance smirked. _That ought to do it._

She was right.

Stephens rolled up his sleeves.

"I know you're going to enjoy this," said Stephens. Chance looked beside her to see Joker crack his neck. Stephens continued, "I'm just going to have to try to enjoy it even more."


	86. Doll House

The City in Pieces

Chapter Eighty-Six: Doll House

There was no fight. Joker had the man in his hands the entire time. All he needed was a weak link to break in the detective's chain. Chance watched Joker fly up to his feet and lay into Stephens. Chance rose to her feet. Joker had Stephens on the floor. Chance immediately disarmed him, pocketed the pistol; took his handcuffs, hooked them into her jean loops; retrieved his knife and handed it to Joker; then lowered her face into Stephens' eyes, smirking at him.

"Now," she said with a cute smile, "we have you."

Joker snapped his fingers.

"Get that chair out of the way. Get the door unlocked."

"Don't treat me like Ace," said Chance roughly. She disregarded Joker anyway, pushing forward. Stephens uttered a discomfited cry as Joker pushed the man into the floor, shoving the officer's face into the cold tile. Chance pulled the bolted chair from the door with ferocity. There was that brawn that Joker was talking about. Chance, wanting to get in her tricks, lowered herself to Stephens' view and held out a key that Ramirez had handed her. Chance said nothing, knowing that the revelance of the small detail was there in Stephens' eyes. She stuck the key into the hole, and it clicked. Chance opened the door widely. Behind her, Joker smirked, taking the man by the hands ruthlessly as Bullock had done to Chance.

"Up on your feet, Officer." Joker said. From the floor, he collected a very sharp shard of the broken glass from the mirror. Chance withdrew the pistol from her hip, checking the barrel and examined the number of shots. With a smile, the flipped it back into place. Stephens could only walk. Joker had the shard of glass at his throat; and Chance aimed the gun at his chest.

"Slowly." Joker said in a demanding voice. "Walk."

Stephens, begrudging his rage immediately, strode out of the room with Joker at his throat. It was then that the flood of officers in the detective office withdrew their guns immediately. Chance stood beside Joker with Stephens' gun in her hands. She was steady. Calm. Like Joker. Stephens cried out to the masses,

"It's my own damn fault."

Chance could see the piece of glass just ebb slowly at his skin. Blood.

"Just shoot him!" cried out Stephens.

Detective Murphy, torn from shooting his friend's captor and wanting to get out of this alive, turned to Joker.

"What do you want?" he said uneasily.

"I just want my phone call." Joker said summarily.

There was little hesitation in the negotiating. Murphy tossed his cell phone to Joker, who caught it in one hand. Stephens winced and uttered something painfully when the shard of glass etched into his skin accidentally.

"Oh, sh, sh, sh," said Joker in a petty taunt.

He started to dial.

Chance heard a ringtone from in the other room. She glanced at Joker curiously. He was grinning at her. The ringtone was Ace's phone. It rang. Chance heard something about a contussion from the room's medic. Then from the end of the room, the door to the holding area exploded vivaciously. It sent debris everywhere, causing an electric pulse through each officer. They were knocked unconscious. Hair flew around their faces; Joker dropped Stephens and turned to Chance.

"Gotta thank Ace for making things like that," said Joker. "Come on."

Chance pushed back her mess of hair and followed him. They were in front of a holding cage. Chance's eyes recognized the captive. She had been wondering when she was going to see him again. After all, it was his pills that had poisoned her, and Ace had been the target. Chance handed Joker the key to the cell. Joker smiled at Lau.

"Hello there."

Lau was terrified. When Joker opened the door, then Chance ran in to get him.

"Get the television then we're out. We have a ride waiiting." Joker noted with some relish.

Chance grabbed Lau by the neck of his collar, half-dragging him through the building. Joker led her through the hallways. When they were out the door, a parked police car was there waiting for him. From the passenger seat, Chance smiled widely at the visitor.

Lau stared, in unmistaken horror, as Ace approached him with a very large smile on her face.

"Hi, Lau." Ace said. She handed Lau the bottle of pills that had been for her. "When the mob gets through with you, I get to take you home and add you to my doll house."


	87. Everything Burns

The City in Pieces

Chapter Eighty-Seven: Everything Burns

It was broad-casted over the news that Harvey Dent's girlfriend had died in an explosion. A funeral was being held for Rachel Dawes in a private viewing, held by Bruce Wayne, also funded. The report that there was a huge quantity withdrawal from Hong Kong's bank accounts was also thrown over the news, hacked and discovered. While Ace had been the mastermind behind Rachel's death, it was Chance who had been able to bypass tedious passwords and retrieved the mob's money. All of it was under Joker's supervision. Chance didn't mind all the action. Though when she saw on television that Harvey Dent's condition was critical, she knew what had happened. She had been sent a photograph from Maroni, courtesy of him. Harvey Two-Face appeared before her in her cell phone once more. Chance pocketed her cell phone.

She turned to face the next issue at hand. At the abandoned docks of Gotham Port, inside a large ship, coasted on the side, Joker had stacked billions of dollars worth of bills in neat piles. The highest treasure was Lau, who was bound and gagged at the tippy top of the green paper pyramid. Joker was using the paper stacks as balancing beams to amuse himself. His girlfriend, Ace Leswaae, sat in front of Lau the entire time, intimidating him.

Chance examined the money. It was thirty-feet high. All that money. Nothing to do with it. It was enough to fund a whole expedition across Africa and back. Anything could be done. Chance's reverie was distilled when a laugh was raucous from behind her. She turned to see the Chechen in person. His Rottweilers barked excitedly and rushed up to Chance, familiar to her scent. The love life between the Chechen and Chance hadn't been falsified. The Chechen looked at the pile of money, deeply impressed. Ace looked away from Lau, rising to her feet. Joker jumped off money stack and slid down the pile.

"Like I say, you not crazy!" said the Chechen happily. He smoked a cigar between his lips.

Chance patted the heads of the Rottweiler princes. They returned to their master immediately when Joker approached close to the Chechen. Chance glanced up at Ace. Ace slid down the pile like her sweetheart. She appeared beside Chance. Both of them watched Joker.

"I'm a man of my word." Joker repeated assertively. "Where's the Italian?"

Chance knew that he meant Maroni. The Chechen shrugged.

"More for us. Joker man, what you do with all your money?"

Ace narrowed her eyes at him. Chance observed Joker. He gave a little smile, then he answered the Russian.

"I'm a man of simple tastes. I like gun powder...dynamite..."

The Chechen nodded, agreeable.

"And _gasoline._"

As if on cue, Ace retreated to the back of the money pile and started pouring amber liquid all over the stack. Joker looked over his shoulder to see if Ace had the signal, which when he watched her sprinkle some gasoline into Lau's direction, he smirked then turned back to the Chechen. The Chechen, furious, started forward toward Ace, but Joker held out his hand, stopping him. Joker jabbed in the chest with a gun. Chance, arms folded across her chest, watched Joker threaten her ex-boyfriend.

"You know what they have in common? They're _cheap._"

"You said that you're a man of your word," the Chechen said angrily.

"I'm only burning _my_ half."

Ace approached Joker once the entire money pile was soaked with gas. Joker picked the cigar from the Russian's lips and handed the unlit end to Ace, who smirked as it passed between their hands. Chance watched Ace's expression as she gazed up at Lau, then to the money pile upon which he sat helplessly. Joker looked over his shoulder again to watch Ace gaze at the cigar, then to stare at the leader on top of the cash. Ace tossed the lit stick onto the money. In minutes, the entire load was in flames.

Chance watched Lau scream in agony and desperation. She turned her eyes to Joker.

"Tell your men that they work for me now. All you care about is money." Joker scoffed.

The dogs at the Chechen's feet growled when Joker appeared closer.

"They won't work for a _freak," _the Chechen said snidely in Joker's face.

Joker smiled at him. He withdrew a knife from his purple trench coat.

"Ace, baby," said Joker, tossing the blade over his shoulder; Ace caught it. "Cut him up and offer him to his little princes. Let's show him how loyal a hungry dog really is."

Ace let out a long shriek of laughter when Joker's men held down the Chechen. Chance bit the inside of her cheek as she watched Ace's blood lust hit home into the Chechen's body, and her knife was the tool that delivered it. Joker watched her for a moment. He glanced at Chance, whose face turned pale. She glanced at him.

"It's not about money," he told her. "It's about sending a message."

He pulled out a cell phone.

"Everything burns."


	88. Playing With Barbies

The City in Pieces

Chapter Eighty-Eight: Playing With Barbies

Coleman Reese, Bruce Wayne's financial accountant, appeared on Sixty Minutes, about to unveil the true face behind the mask. Though Joker would have none of that. He dialed the number to Sixty Minutes. Unless someone could kill Reese, a hospital was going to be blown to Hell. In one of the hospitals, Ace had rigged the entire building to come down in two blasts. The same hospital was the one that occupied the scarred Harvey Dent. As history would repeat itself, it'd be only in a matter of time that Harvey would slip back into Two-Face's habits. Though even then, Chance wasn't sure if he would have total recollection of anything he had done before the reconstructive surgery. The people of Gotham obviously cared about their critical district attorney. After all, as the white knight of Gotham, he was a role model. And if he could slip into insanity, then none was the wiser.

"He'll have the entire town rolling in their graves," said Ace as she and Chance climbed into a two-person vehicle. "Bet Bane never gave you this action."

"His plans are controlled. These are just nuts," said Chance, sitting beside her.

Ace popped a large bubble of gum in her mouth then looked at her friend with disdain.

"Ugh, you still are no fun. Lighten up."

"Exactly where are we going again?"

"Getting a school bus." Ace said, driving out of the garage.

"What good is that going to do?"

"Joker wants Engel."

Chance sighed.

"The television reporter? Why him?"

"He's getting on Joker's nerves." Ace answered simply. "Anyway, what does it matter? It's all coming together, isn't it? The people are freaking out because some things are not going as expected. Nothing ever does." Ace smiled slightly. "It's Karma, Chance. Simply doo-da luck."

"Why threaten Reese?" questioned Chance.

"He's going to show Gotham who Batman really is. Joker wants him to himself." Ace explained quite briefly. "The noble thing for Reese to do is to kill himself, but then again: it's a noble thing to do. He's a lawyer. And lawyers do enough to help themselves, and when they should help any body else, they skive." Ace drove through the streets slowly. "Gotham General is where Harvey is. If Coleman Reese does decide to off himself, it'll just be a bonus."

"So what exactly are _we _supposed to be doing now?" asked Chance, watching the entire city become an uproar of chaos and turmoil.

"Well, now, we're going to avoid these rushing citizens like squirrels on a winter's eve. Joker wants us up in the hospital to control any officers or anybody that should interrupt his conversation with Dent. He personally wants to explain himself to him."

"Literally explain?"

"That's what I'm understanding." Ace said. Her eyes softened with admiration. "He's not the kind of man who would stab you in the back. Well, he is. You just strides around your body when he's finished and explains _why _he stabbed you." Ace glanced at Chance who stared at her. "Joker once cheated on me with some floozy when I was off doing some personal business. It was a secretary." Ace was calm when she said this. "So when I found out, he told me straight up that he had this affair with a tramp."

"He had an affair and you still love him?" asked Chance, surprised.

Ace, who had always been a faithful servant to Joker, couldn't abide disloyalty, so it was surprising to Chance that she would have forgiven him for such a misgiving. Ace gave Chance a smile.

"When I expressed just how angry I was to him, Joker went back to her house and killed her." Ace said. "He handed me her heart." With a little smile, she added, "_Literally._"

Chance shook her head of the morbid fairy tale.

"I was always taught if I wanted someone gone," said Chance, "I should simply 'walk up to them and stab in the heart'."

Ace shrugged. "Potato, pa-tah-to."

"Joker is using Reese's impending death to distract the cops," guessed Chance, watching a line of cars race through the traffic lanes. When Ace said nothing, Chance continued. "Harvey's in quite a devastating condition. I'm not sure it's good to speak to him when he's realized that his fiancee is dead." Chance felt pity for Harvey: he lost his good looks and his lover in a single bound. At least the last time that he was damaged, it was all Maroni's fault for sure. Then again, Ace had been working with Maroni's men when she put Rachel and Dent in their proverbial places.

"Joker won't do anything stupid." Ace assured Chance. They looked out the window. "If he does, he usually improvises." A smile passed her pretty face. "Though sometimes, I can't ever tell if he is making it up as he goes or he plans it all out and dose it."

Chance watched the city become chaotic and terrorized. One man's life could save or destroy several, and that was Joker's intended. With a news cast about Reese's death, Batman surely would want to save him, but the crusader wouldn't come out in the day time. Chance surveyed school buses lining up beside the hospital at the front.

"You'd think cops would figure out," said Chance calmly, "that we're using school buses for a lot of our plans..."

Ace merely smiled at her comfortably.

They watched the scene. A mob was starting outside a building where Reese was likely stowing away. He might have been bold to speak out against Batman, but at this point, it appeared that the frightened lawyer was hoping that Batman was as generous as he was bold. Chance didn't much care if Reese was killed. Like Joker, she assumed that the death of one shyster would be more of a bonus than anything. It was nature's way of pruning the weak-minded. Chance could live longer with that knowledge. Then a few cars parked behind Ace's cop car. Chance glanced in the right view mirror, seeing only a purple coat tail fly by the trunk, not enough to see the person. However, she already knew who it was.

Joker appeared by Ace's window. Ace rolled it down with the automatic button. Her eyes were dopey when he leaned in, setting his hands on the sill, gazing at her momentarily before he spoke.

"All right, ladies, ready to play dress-up?"

Chance gave him a look.

"I'm not going in there with you. It's bad enough that Gordon and the entire task force know that I'm actually _alive_." Chance said strongly, leaning in her seat. Ace gave her a distressed look. Joker's smile on his flickered with annoyance.

He withdrew a nurse's scrubs and flung the pair into Chance's lap.

"Come on. It'll be like playing with Barbies all over again." He glanced at Ace, who was smiling at him. Joker withdrew a second outfit from his coat pocket. When the clothing exchanged hands, Ace's cheeks flushed.

"When I played with Barbies," said Ace, "I ripped their heads off and burned their clothes and made the Ken dolls watched."

Joker smiled at her.

"You _are_ beautiful. All right," said Joker, suddenly serious, pointedly toward Chance, "I'm going into the car over there to change. We're going in there to find Dent. Got it?"

"They'll bring him out," said Chance suddenly when Joker started to leave the window. He sighed, irritated, and returned to leaning against the door. "You'll never get in there without being noticed."

"Well, duh," said Joker. He threw a pistol into Chance's lap. "Don't you know by now that we're not doing this like a couple of jewel thieves? You may want to sit around and wait to bite, but I enjoy the ocassional bark every now and again. Ace, get her out of the car. She's aggravating me."

Chance groaned in frustration.

Bane had told her to remain a fly on the wall, but Joker was sending her onto center stage. If she should get caught in a police shooting, there was no doubt in her mind that she would be dead. Ace and Chance dressed in the nurse uniforms quickly, shoes and all. Ace drew her hair up into a ponytail. When Joker reappeared by their side, he was also in a dress and shoes. He wore a red wig on his head. Chance smirked slightly, amused.

"Come on." Joker insisted.

"Yes, Nurse Ratched," muttered Chance, irked.


	89. Faces

Author's Note: There's quite a bit of Joker in this Bane fanfic, I know, but it's the Dark Knight. Bane Lovers, we're almost to Dark Knight Rises.

The City in Pieces

Chapter Eighty-Nine: Faces

Chance, Ace, and Joker, entered the hospital with little to no problems. They drew surgeon masks around their mouths and walked swiftly and calmly through the corridors. Chance didn't know how Joker knew Harvey's room number, but they managed to get there with no trouble at all. When Joker entered, Chance and Ace lingered momentarily. Chance glanced behind her shoulder to look at the door uncertainly then turned to the man of the hour, lying on the bed, suffering pain and anguish at emotionally unstable levels, trying to sleep. Chance strode around the bed solemnly. Long ago, she would have given the world to make the old Two-Face realize that she had been the one who loved him most, but at this point in time, Chance could feel some pity, but that was it. Her feelings for him had died along with his criminal record. Ace's eyes watched Chance carefully. Joker didn't mind the pair, he merely considered the IV leads beside the bed, admiring the tubing.

Joker took up a clipboard, waving for Ace and Chance turn their faces from the entrance of the room, should cops enter. By a cue, a police officer entered, dark-skinned and urgent.

"Ma'am," said the cop, referring to Joker, whom he thought was a woman, "we have to move him now."

Joker withdrew a silencing pistol and sent one into the officer's head. Chance drew the body away from the door while Ace closed and locked it immediately afterward. Chance undressed quickly; Joker glanced at her briefly, though turned away from her, uninterested. Chance stripped the body of the uniform and dressed into it, preferring to blend in as a cop. Ace took up Chance's disrobed nurse uniform and tossed it out the window.

Joker closed the open glass window and then turned to Harvey Two-Face Dent. It was as if he had never the reconstructive surgery. Chance wordlessly drew up chairs beside Two-Face, though she remained standing. Despite her disappeared romantic feelings for him, she still felt uncomfortable for being the reason of his down bringing. He had been well-liked by the people, loved by a faithful woman, about to earn a promotion, to become what Gotham wanted, and now he was thrashed into a world where nothing good would ever come to those who wait. Not if he obeyed the laws. Joker handed off his silencer to Ace, who pocked the gun in her scrubs. She crossed her arms, observing as Joker settled down in a chair.

Harvey's eyes came alive. Chance jerked slightly at the obscene visage before you. Ace raised her eyebrows at him, impressed at his survival. Joker merely clicked his tongue, licked his lips, and settled down beside Harvey's bed. Two-Face, no doubt recognizing Joker's face, moved madly in his bed. Chance noticed that he could barely move. He was being restrained by leather cuff links on his hands, one around his stomach, another on his chest.

When his good eye and bad eye met Chance's equally pretty blue ones, they dilated. He glanced at Ace, and they dilated as well.

Chance set her hands up in the air defensively when he moved angrily on the bed.

"I know your face," he growled at her. "I know all of yours."

Ace smirked.

"Harv," said Chance gently.

Harvey glared at her.

"Get away from me. You. Get away from me."

Joker sighed.

"Hey, don't pay attention to her. I just brought her along."

"Working for him, aren't you?" said Harvey coldly, looking at Chance in obvious contempt. "Shocker, there."

"You remember me." Chance said with some slight dismay.

"Hey, I'm over here," said Joker, waving his hand.

Harvey glowered at him.

"Hi." Joker said, surveying Dent's injuries. "I don't want there to be any hard feelings between us, Harvey."

Joker leaned over him and started to loosen his restraints.

"When you and Rachel were being abducted," he said calmly, "I was sitting in Gordon's cage. I didn't rig those charges—"

Joker said nothing more when Harvey shook his head. His shining eyes indicated Ace at Joker's shoulder.

"Your men." He said, glowering at Ace. "Your plan."

"Do I look like a guy with a plan?" said Joker, a bored expression on his face.

"No." Chance muttered, unable to restrain herself.

Joker gave her a look before he continued,

"I don't have a plan. The mob has plans. Batman has plans. You have plans. _Gordon's_ got plans." A smile. You know what I am, Harvey?"

Chance noticed Harvey Dent's hand tremble.

"I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do with it if I caught it. I just do things. I'm the monkey wrench in the gears. I hate plans. Yours"—he threw a hand at him, Chance, and the city—"hers, theirs. Everyone's. Maroni has plans. Schemers trying to control their worlds. Now I already showed Ace the ropes about how anything can mix up in the Karma. Chance is learning it. They both are learning that I'm not a schemer. I show the schemers their pathetic attempts to maintain control."

Dent stared at him. Chance knew what he was thinking. Get to the point already.

"So when I say that you and your girlfriend were nothing personal," said Joker, patting Dent's hand, "you know that I am telling the truth."

Joker motioned for Ace to hand him the pistol. She handed it to him wordlessly.

Chance saw the familiar look on Ace's face. She was under his spell.

"It's the schemers who put you where you are. _You_ were a schemer. You had plans. Look where it got you."

Dent's mouth twitched.

"I just did what I do best."

Dent reacted violently, reaching for Joker's throat. Ace reacted, rising to her feet automatically, though it looked like Joker could handle his own. Joker held onto Harvey's lunging hands, pulling them to his waist and holding him down. He held onto Harvey's wrists as he said,

"I took your little plan and I turned it on itself. Look what I've done to this city with a few oil drums and a couple of bullets. Nobody expected when everything goes to plan. Even if it's horrifying." He smiled at Harvey. "Introduce," he said, taking his pistol, "a little anarchy.

He placed the gun in Harvey's hands.

"I'm going to die today," muttered Chance to Ace, who was staring at the profile before her. "I know it."

Harvey glanced at the pistol first then to Joker's eyes, trying to find meaning. He glanced at Chance, who was teetering on anxiety and excitement at the display of action. The Harvey turned to Ace. She was waiting on edge. Joker had a way of showing what he really was. Two-Face could return in a few moments as the way he was before he turned good.

With some slight resentment, Chance felt some stirring in her chest. Two-Face could become that evil-minded genius tactician. That was the part that she missed about him, not this justified side of him.

"Upset the established order." Joker cooed. He held the gun in Harvey's hand and held the barrel to his forehead. A smile on his face. Harvey stared at him. "And everything will become chaos. It falls into panic, chaos, and pain. We're all agents here. You've your justified rights; Ace is an agent of fear, Chance is an agent of agony. Don't we deserve titles here. I'm the agent of chaos.

"And you know the thing about chaos?" added Joker in a trivial note.

Harvey looked into his eyes.

"It's _fair._"

Chance leaned over Harvey and handed him his double-headed coin. A glimmering side and a charred side. Harvey held open his hand so that she could place it in an open palm. She didn't have her fingers out fast enough when he took the coin, so when he held it, he also held her fingers. Chance stared into his eyes. He watched her. She felt her stomach clenched.

_Oh, God, not this again._ Chance didn't want any part of him anymore.

But he released her hand. He held the coin up to Joker's face.

"Good side, you live," said Harvey, showing him the white face.

"Mm." Joker mumbled.

"Bad side, you _die._"

Joker cooed, "Mm, now we're talking'."

He flipped the coin then gazed at the exposed side. His eyes met Joker, who smiled at the result.


	90. Ashes

Author's Note: This is the last installment of the City in Pieces I. I will be making the City in Pieces II. Look for it. Reviews, please.

The City in Pieces

Chapter Ninety: Ashes

Gotham's morality was deteriorating the moment that Joker had entered the realm of corruption and deceit. Joker's intentions from the very beginning were to bring down Harvey Dent, and that was main affliction. Chance had watched the scenes unfold in awe and inspiration, fulfilled by some light that Joker managed to build the fires and make the entire city fall to the decay of hopelessness. When Chance didn't think that the Joker could be any more menacing. He had proved her wrong.

Joker was disappointed that the Gothamites couldn't kill the lawyer. It was Joker's standards that he would throw them citizens out of the kitchen and into the frying pan. He had arranged ferry boats to take out those who no longer wanted to play his little game. Two kinds of people had been on the boats: one filled with innocent civilians; the other, a group of cell mates, the scum of Gotham.

Ace was ever more engulfed into Joker's growing schemes. She was his activist and loyal companion throughout the entire plans, though Chance considered that he already knew that Harvey Dent was out of the hospital. The people of Gotham were running amok below them, on the city streets, while Chance gazed out the window to see the two ferry boats on the river, watching them. Chance turned to see Ace with a hungry gaze on her face. They were waiting. The Chechen's Rottweilers circled the building. The building was under renovation, no furniture was in it. Below them, there were hostages and Joker's men. Chance turned to Joker, who was watching the ferry boats. Chance turned to Ace, who was grinning, awaiting for the climax to hit.

Maroni was killed just recently. Two-Face killed him. Wuertz was dead. Two-Face killed him. Two-Face was targeting those who were involved in Rachel's death. It wouldn't be long until he went after Gordon, who should have saved her, or even Ace, who had been the person to set Rachel in the oil plant in the first place. The matter at hand was that Batman would be trying to find Joker in order to save the two boats on the river. If they remained noble: one having the ability to forgive, and the other considering that their time is up—Joker would still push both buttons on the detonator, and everyone would serve a sorbette for the sharks below.

As Chance grew more involved in Joker's plan, she felt her stomach turn uneasily. This was more than what she wanted. She only meant to observe the play, but as it turned out, Joker wanted her in the game. Ace, though, was having the time of her life, watching with suspended pleasure as she glanced at her lover from across the room, who was waiting for the next Fourth of July.

Outside, helicopters flew all around. SWAT team members flew into the building windows below them. Chance's eyes peered out the window when she saw Batman swinging with his cable gun. Chance had to admire Bruce ever more. He just didn't know when to quit. And one day, that would get him broken. Chance glanced at Ace, who rushed to the edge of the large window pane to stare with a wanton hungry face.

In the Prewitt building, Chance motioned for the body guards around them to head downstairs to hold off Batman. The Rottweilers trotted around Chance defensively. Joker still stared at the ferries on the river. Ace smiled at him with appreciation. From behind the three of them, the Rottweiler's growled. This made Joker turn. Batman stood there in front of them. He took each criminal in turn. More of a stand-off than a confrontation, Joker withdrew a knife from his coat, holding out his arms with some finality.

"Oh, you came." A smile. "I'm so touched."

"Where's the detonator?" said Batman in a low voice. He had about enough of the three of them. He was already irritated.

Joker gave Batman an amused smile. The dogs growled loudly at Batman. Chance turned to Joker slightly. Joker indicated for her to use the dogs; Chance turned to her ex-boyfriend's pets and snapped her fingers. The Rottweilers growled angrily, aiming for the Batman's extremities. They smashed him into the floor. Ace approached beside Joker, nothing but sheer enjoyment on her face; her blue eyes were dancing. Chance surveyed the scene with a slight frown.

She wondered exactly how much Bruce would take in order to save his city. He'd throw himself off a cliff if it meant saving a woman from drowning.

The blinding array of Batman, dark fur, and bared teeth flashed before them. Batman kicked off the first dog, which hit Chance in the stomach. 120 pounds of fur send her to the floor with a small grunt. When Batman tossed off the last dog, Joker piled onto him, jabbing his knife into Batman's ribcage. Batman cried out.

"Oh," said Joker, "of all the familiar places."

Ace circled Joker and Batman like a vulture, ready to act if her master whistled. Chance could barely consider the scene that was playing before her. Joker butted Batman in the face. Although he was bleeding, Batman recoiled in pain. Joker elbowed him in his bruised ribs. Energy exploded from his lean frame. Batman rose to his feet after sending Joker across the floor. Ace gave a leap and wrapped her body around Batman's physique, much like an angry python ready to constrict. Ace, a prodigy killer, wrapped her hands around Batman's neck; her fingernails dug into his skin, sending him to the floor in agony. Batman raised his hand. He hit her with his gauntlet on his arm. The sharp blades on the side of the glove scraped Ace's face, and she howled in searing pain. Batman threw her off.

Watching her best friend bleed from the cheek and mouth by small knives, Chance raced forward and punched Batman in the face. Batman punched her hard in the stomach, sending her to the floor. As Batman tried to go after a writhing Ace, Chance wrapped her arms around his raised leg and tripped him. She and Batman wrestled on the floor. She grabbed his face then sank her teeth into his exposed cheek. Batman roared as she drew blood. She laughed at him.

In her sultry voice, only loud enough for Batman to hear,

"You haven't lost your touch, Bruce."

After a few seconds delay, Batman punched her in the jaw. He rose to his feet. But by the time he tried to recuperate, it was Joker who send him flying toward the glass. Ace, lying on the floor only about a foot away from Joker, bleeding, looked up weakly. Joker kicked Batman through the window, glass flew onto the floor. Ace, vengeful, rose to her feet weakly, grabbed the largest piece of glass she could find, and started toward Batman angrily. Joker, who had bent down over Batman, got to his feet quickly and took Ace's arm, holding her back.

"No. He's mine," Joker growled.

Ace's bloody face was angry. When he let her go, Joker turned and kicked the brace holding up the steel frame. Batman's arms flew up to catch the falling beam, his protective gauntlets sparing his life. Joker stepped onto the beam and lowered his face to Batman's. From behind him, Ace approached him. She had a look of finality.

"Ace, step back." Chance said tiredly, slowly rising to her feet. "Step back."

Ace's face was enraged. Batman looked at her, slightly surprised. Joker turned around to see her there. He was irritated.

"I said, he's mine. Back away."

Ace's eyes were burning.

"Let me do it. Let me kill him. I'll do it." Ace said in a high-pitched voice.

The helicopters pointed their spot lights onto Joker. Ace screamed over the vibrations in the air.

"Let me do it! I can do it! For you!"

When she leaned forward to help him, Joker turned around and smacked her in the face. Chance winced as Ace was sent to the floor behind him. Although that was highly inappropriate, Ace still looked as if she were wanting his approval. She stayed down.

Batman looked at Joker.

"You're a monster."

"I'm not monster. I'm ahead of the curve," said Joker, looking at her. "I can manage to keep her around long enough."

"And what do you want with Chance?"

The helicopter's blades picked up the wind. The breeze blew Ace's hair all over the place, lying on the floor, staying down as Joker requested beforehand. The wind tossed Chance's ponytail. She was leaning up against a beam, exhausted and injured. Such a finality in the air, it seemed as Joker was finally going to get what he wanted.

"If we don't stop this fighting," said Joker, "we're going to miss the fireworks."

"There won't _be_ any fireworks." Batman growled from below him.

Batman was struggling to keep the beam from crushing his neck.

The clock struck midnight. Ace looked up to see the grandfather clock chiming loudly.

Ace laughed loudly in the air, conquering the raucous propellers of the helicopter just outside the building.

"Time's up!" she yelled. "You're out of time, Batman! You're too late!"

Chance held her side. She glanced at the time. But nothing else happened. Joker glanced at the clock, too, to make sure that it was right. Batman waited. He indicated the clock.

"What were you trying to prove?" said Batman, slightly triumphant. "That deep down, everyone is as ugly as you?"

Joker looked at the clock. Ace was just as disappointed as Joker. Joker's smile vanished.

"You're alone." Batman said to Joker.

Ace struggled to her feet. She just couldn't help herself. She had to prove to everyone that she was Joker's better half. Joker sighed. He held the detonator in front of Batman's face.

"Can't rely on anyone these days." Joker muttered. "You gotta do everything yourself, _don't we?_"

Ace was limping toward Joker. Chance watched her. Poor thing.

"Which by the way," said Joker to Batman, "do you know how I got these scars?"

"No." Batman said. "But I know I got these!"

Chance's eyes widened as Batman's scallop blades fired out of his gauntlet that he had used to hit Ace. They nailed the joker in the chest and face, causing him to unsteady his balance on the beam. Batman freed himself and kicked him over the edge. Ace raced toward the edge of the building; Chance went after her. Ace's scream was louder than anything that Chance had ever heard in her life as the girl watched her lover pitch off the side of the building. Ace tried to go with him, but Chance caught her around the waist, sending her to the floor. Batman reacted instinctively, withdrew a cable gun, aimed it at Joker, and pulled. It caught the Joker safely around his ankle, stopping his fall.

Batman glanced behind him to see Ace, out of breath, staring as Joker dangled upside down. Her cheeks were streaked with ready tears. Chance helped her up.

"Get up, Ace..." Chance whispered as Batman and Joker started talking to each other. "We have to go. Joker's going to Arkham. You can't save him. We have to go."

Joker's voice carried.

"You didn't think," said Joker calmly, "that I would lose the battle of the soul of Gotham in a fist fight with you? No. You have to have an ace in the hole. Mine's Harvey."

Batman's voice growled.

"What did you do?"

"I turned Gotham's white knight and brought him down to our level. You see, madness is like gravity." He indicated a hand to Ace behind Batman. "All it takes...is a little _push._"

"Let's go..." Chance told Ace, pulling her away from the scene. "Come on. We have to go into hiding. Come on, Ace. Come _on._"

Ace watched her lover hang in the balance. Batman was pre-occupied.

They made it to Rachel's death site. It took about twenty minutes to get there. But Ace and Chance stopped dead in their tracks. It was part two of the finale. Two-Face held a gun to Gordon, who was lying on the ground, pleading. His family, a wife and son, were against a beam of a burnt shelter, cowering. And Batman was standing there, trying to calm the situation. Two-Face took one look at Ace, then he aimed the gun at her and fired. Chance gasped as Ace hit the floor, grabbing her shoulder in agony. Two-Face shot the other person who was responsible for Rachel's death. The little boy cried out in fright; Gordon watched as the wanted killer held on Chance's leg, bleeding, though very alive. Two-Face glanced at the new arrival in startled dismay, seeing his old partner and ally standing there. He raised the gun to her.

"Harvey..." Chance muttered.

"I didn't have to flip to know that she deserved that." Two-Face told Chance aggressively.

Dent indicated the little boy with his gun.

"His son's got as much chance as Rachel had," he said, looking at Chance momentarily. "So do you. So does Gordon, does Batman."

"You don't want to shoot him," said Chance, glancing at Gordon's son.

Batman stepped toward Dent, though he was unsure of why Chance wanted to speak to Harvey. Batman spoke calmly,

"What happened to Rachel wasn't by chance. We decided to act."

Ace gasped something beside Chance. If Chance didn't get her help, she was to bleed to death.

"Us. We're all responsible for the consequences. Rachel's death."

Dent looked at Batman, pleading.

"Then why was it me who _lost _everything."

Chance lowered her knees to help Ace pass through pain, but Dent sent the gun to target her.

"You let that scum bitch die. Or I'll kill you, Chance. I swear to God. I will." Dent threatened.

Chance rose back to her feet. Ace lowered herself to the ground. Perhaps that would ease the pain.

"It wasn't just you," said Batman.

Two-Face became furious, "The Joker chose _me!_"

"Because you were the best of us!" said Batman passionately. "You resembled good. He wanted to prove that someone as good as you could fall."

Bitterly, Dent said,

"He was right."

Batman shook his head.

"You're fooling yourself if you think that it's wise to let chance decide."

Chance stared at him.

"I won't decide anything," said Chance automatically.

Though Chance finally understood why Two-Face had been drawn to her the first time they met. Her name represented all that he could stand for. The fact that she left him, well...That might as well have told him that he could never win.

"Fine." Two-Face said. He flipped a coin, turning to Batman. "You first."

It landed. Two-Face took his gun and shot Batman.

"My turn." Two-face put the gun to his head.

From the ground, Ace said in a low voice,

"I can't believe that he's still using that fucking quarter..."

Two-Face ignored her. He didn't shoot himself. It was clean.

"Your turn, Gordon."

"Your right," said Gordon. "Rachel's death was my fault. But punish me—"

"I'm about to," said Dent. "Tell your son that it's going to be okay. Lie. Like I lied."

From the ground, Ace said,

"Man, I really killed his mind this time, didn't I?"

"Ace, shut up," said Chance quietly.

"She talks one more time," said Two-Face, "I'll blow her face off."

Pained, Gordon looked into his son's eyes.

"It's going to be all right son."

Dent took the coin. He flipped it up in the air high. Chance watched it flip over and over.

Before it could land, though, Batman rose to his feet automatically, and took Harvey and Gordon's boy over the edge of the ledge of the building.

Gordon's wife roared in dismay.

Chance left Ace and stared over the edge along with Gordon. The boy was hanging over the edge for dear life. Gordon abandoned Barbara and went to see if Batman and Harvey were all right. Chance watched Batman get to his feet. Harvey, however, never moved. With that date to work on, Chance turned her heel and took Ace off the floor.

"Where are you going?" asked Ace, as Chance pulled her from the scene.

"Away from here. You must come with me. You're not free here. And Joker won't wait for you."

Ace, pulled by wanting to be with Joker, but imprisoned in Arkham, tossed her options around.

She held her shoulder painfully. And shook her head.

"I won't leave this place. It's my playground. When Gotham is ashes," said Ace with a smile, "I might come with you." With that, Chance nodded. They went separate ways. Neither of them looked back.


End file.
